Conversations with the King
by athelas63
Summary: Complete. Aragorn's trip to Ithilien goes awry.
1. On the Veranda

**Disclaimer: **I do not own anyone or anything. I just want to live in Middle Earth.

**Note:** This takes place about 14 years after the War of the Ring ends. And this time I wrote Book Faramir, with black hair and grey eyes, just to be different (I like both movie and book). So those of you who usually complain when I write blond – hope you are happy. And those of you who love blond Faramir, deal with it.

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**On the Veranda**

Eowyn could feel herself drifting. She sat in the chair before a roaring fire, feeling quite warm and comfortable for the first time all day, in several days actually. Now, with the blanket pulled around her, and the warmth before her, she was unable to resist as her eyes closed and her knitting slipped from her fingers to lay abandoned before her.

Rousing herself, she looked up to see Faramir watching her over the top of his book. She couldn't see his mouth, but his eyes were crinkled in such a way that she knew he was laughing at her attempts to stay alert. With great effort, she shook herself awake and stood up, a somewhat difficult maneuver considering she was over eight months pregnant.

"I'm going to bed," she said forcefully, as if she expected argument from her husband. Laying her knitting on the blanket she dropped into the chair, she turned toward the sweeping staircase behind her. "You can stay up reading all night if you like." Her tone made clear exactly her feelings should he decide to do so.

Instantly Faramir was on his feet, yawning and stretching like a cat. "No, I am tired, too, I will come with you." He reached over and hugged her, kissing her lightly behind her ear and gently stroking her swollen stomach. "You have had a long day." Eowyn nodded in agreement.

* * *

That morning they had had unexpected visitors as the Kings of Gondor and Rohan had thundered up to the house with a surprisingly small retinue accompanying them. Eowyn had known her brother and his family were going to be visiting Minas Tirith for several weeks, but had not expected to see him at her own home so soon. They were, of course, greeted warmly and invited to spend the day.

"We can only stay for an hour or so," Eomer had informed her, after bestowing a bruising kiss on her cheek and patting her round belly approvingly. "We are on our way to inspect a quarry that Aragorn informs me has the potential to provide enough stone to double the size of his city."

"And yours, should you like," offered Aragorn generously.

"We do not build with white stone in Rohan," Eomer's voice was haughty. "Wood is the way of the Mark." Aragorn bowed in mock apology.

"Forgive me, my king." He rolled his eyes at Eowyn and she laughed, then shrieked with alarm as a cold nose was pushed against her. The huge black wolfhound that accompanied Eomer everywhere was behind her begging for attention, leaning his shaggy head against her and looking up with beseeching brown eyes.

"Get away from me you awful thing!" Eowyn made a face and pushed the dog from her. "Honestly, Eomer, why on earth do you keep this dog around all the time?"

Eomer snapped his fingers and the dog went to him immediately, jumping up to lick his master's face before lying down contently at his feet. "Who, Grima? Because, Eowyn, he is faithful and loyal." He pretended to be confused. "I thought you liked dogs?"

His sister's brows furrowed, making her an uncanny copy of Eomer when angry. "I do like dogs, just not this one. He's too big, and too – I don't know – eager."

Faramir frowned and glared at his brother-in-law. "You're still calling the thing Grima? Why?"

The King of Rohan laughed loudly, tossing back his golden mane of hair. "Because, it pleases me to have him come when I call his name, and to do as I say." His eyes gleamed mischievously. "And it makes me laugh when he lays there and licks himself."

Eowyn groaned and swatted at her brother. "Such noble thoughts for a King!" Her brother laughed at her discomfort and she noted that while Faramir and Aragorn both seemed slightly embarrassed by Eomer's comment, they said nothing. She glared at them and resolved to keep silent for the rest of the conversation.

"Will you stay at the caves?" Faramir asked as they settled themselves on the large veranda that wrapped around the house. It was one of the rare February days lately when it was not raining, the sun could occasionally be seen peeking through the grey clouds and it was warm enough to sit outside. "Or will you try to make it there and back in one day?"

"UNCLE!" A chorus of voices interrupted Faramir and let Eowyn know that the tutor had heard the arrival of their visitors and released the boys from their lessons. All five of her sons raced across the veranda and leaped on Eomer as he greeted them enthusiastically. Elboron was the first to disengage himself, feeling the maturity of his twelve years, but the others were less self-conscious and relentlessly wrestled with their burly uncle until they had forced him to the floor.

"Boys!" Eowyn lightly scolded them as they all lay on the stones in a tangle, laughing and tickling. "Really, this is not proper behavior."

"And you have failed to greet the King." Faramir's voice was mild, but each of his sons could hear the faint rebuke. Immediately they rose, lined up and gravely presented themselves to Aragorn. "Good day, Sire." They spoke and bowed in near unison.

Aragorn returned their greeting with a slight incline of his head. "Good day to you, my lords." He treated them, as always, with complete seriousness and respect. "I trust you all are well." He was answered by an assortment of affirmatives and smiled at his Steward's crop of sons. Some blond, some dark-haired, some blue eyes, some grey, but all well-mannered, attractive boys. Even the youngest, the three-year-old, stood straight and proud before his king. He held up a finger. "I have a cut," he announced, stepping forward so that Aragorn could inspect the slight scratch on his forefinger.

Aragorn carefully examined the finger. "What happened, Sam?" Faramir had saddled his youngest with the weighty name of Ecthelion, but the small, sturdy blond had reminded everyone so much of a certain hobbit that the boy had been Sam from the beginning.

"I was digging in the garden with mother, and there was a rock." Sam climbed happily into the king's lap, ready to tell the entire tale of his injury, but was interrupted by his older brother, five-year-old Barahir.

"He threw it at me." Barahir leaned on Aragorn's knee and pointed at Sam. "So I threw it back, and then –"

"Boys." Eowyn had only to say the word once and there was silence. She had been planning to send them back to their lessons, but their pleading faces and the smile playing about Aragorn's mouth stopped her. "You may stay, but you must listen quietly." They each nodded soberly in acceptance and were soon scattered about the porch, Sam keeping his place with the king and Elboron leaning against the post behind his uncle, while eight-year-old Eomund shared the edge of his mother's chair. Theoden, the ten-year-old, sat down on the floor to lean against his father's legs and Barahir unhesitatingly went to curl up in Faramir's lap, his usual favorite spot. Faramir hugged him close as he repeated his question.

"Will you try to stay at the caves?"

"I would rather stay," said Aragorn. "But I fear they may be flooded. We have not managed to go two days without rain for over a month, and I do not know what the weather will bring tomorrow." He frowned slightly. "The Anduin was over its banks most of the way here. If we get more rain it will flood a large part of the Pelennor and we might have a problem getting back to the city."

"We have had flooding here, also," said Faramir as a servant arrived with a tray and poured wine for the adults, cider for the children. "The creeks and streams are higher than I've ever seen. And the ground is nothing but mud." He gestured towards the south. "There have been several landslides down along the great meadow."

"I fear it will be worse before it gets better," said Aragorn. "March is usually our rainy month and it's only the middle of February and we are already saturated." He looked thoughtfully at Faramir. "When I come back through here, ride to the city with me and we'll pull out that plan we made a few years ago for moving some of the farmers into the city for a few weeks."

Faramir nodded. "The one we made AFTER the river came up that winter during the ice jam? I still have it." He steepled his fingers before him and thought for a moment. "If I remember correctly, that was the first time the bridge in Osgiliath had been flooded in something like twenty-five years." He looked at Aragorn with concern. "How high was the water there?"

The King took a drink of wine and traded a glance with Eomer. "Not that bad, I think." As he spoke a large dark cloud scudded across the sky, dimming the sun and causing each of the adults to raise wary eyes to the heavens. It passed over, however, and the King of the Mark nodded in agreement with Aragorn's assessment.

"It was high, but still several feet below the bridge. A day or two of good weather should drop the water back to normal."

"Two days of good weather in a row?" Eowyn snapped, forgetting her vow of silence and taking a huge swallow of her wine as her face showed her skepticism. "That seems unlikely. It's been raining for weeks. I'm sick to death of it. You can never go outside without getting drenched, the house is damp and cold, the boys all have runny noses, there is mud everywhere, and-" she realized the men were exchanging grins at her tirade. "What is so funny?"

"Nothing, nothing," Faramir said reassuringly, even as Eomer snickered into his wineglass.

"Then why is my brother laughing?"

Eomer managed to get himself under control and drained his cup before he stood to kiss his sister. "Ah, Eowyn, you are never more lovely than when you are eight months gone with child and in a fine temper."

She made an unladylike noise even as she couldn't help smiling and let his teasing pass because she knew he understood how happy each baby made her and Faramir. Now they were preparing for another little one, a babe to be born in just a few weeks. Her smile faded into a frown. "A girl, this time," she said forcefully. "Enough of the vaunted Hurin ability to breed boys, five is enough." She saw Faramir's face blush as her usual forthrightness in discussing any type of reproduction manifested itself.

"If not for boys the House of Hurin would have passed long ago," he reminded her shyly.

Eowyn pointedly glanced around the porch at her sons. "I think we have that taken care of," she said. "It would be nice to have a little princess, just to break up the monotony." She hated to admit it, but lately she had found herself yearning for a little girl; someone to dress up and put ribbons in her hair. Ridiculous, she knew, for Eowyn Wraithbane, a Shieldmaiden of Rohan, to have such desires, but she could not ignore them. And when she thought of how Faramir would dote on a little girl, her heart melted. "A little girl with her father's eyes and her uncle's hair," she said somewhat dreamily. She had always been slightly jealous of the fact that Eomer's blond locks were more attractive than her own.

"I don't like girls," said Sam to Aragorn, who wisely said nothing. The other boys remained quiet, although Elboron noticed a soft glow in the king's eyes.

"Just so long as she doesn't have her mother's temper," Eomer snorted, quickly moving away in case Eowyn decided to hit him again. "One Rohirric princess per house is quite sufficient."

As she opened her mouth to protest he lifted his eyebrows at Aragorn. "Shouldn't we be going, my lord?"

"Ah, yes, I think so." Aragorn finished his drink and also stood, depositing Sam on the floor and taking Eowyn's hand and raising it to lips. "My lady."

"Hmmph!" Eowyn restrained herself from jerking her hand from the king's grasp, knowing down inside that she really was just in a bad temper. She glared at her brother. "All right, then, just ride off. But be careful, the roads are muddy, and don't get caught in a storm, come back here if it gets too bad…"

"Eowyn, we are not children!" Eomer gave her a look of exasperation. "We have supplies, we'll decide once we get there."

Aragorn stretched a moment, enjoying the view. Faramir's home in Ithilien was truly lovely, even in the last damp throes of winter. The large stone house was surrounded by trees and flowerbeds, the formal gardens nicely contrasting with the woods and fields bordering them. He looked over the large herb garden that Eowyn tended and then at the boys gathered around their parents and smiled. "It is lovely here, today, though."

"It's not raining," laughed Eowyn. "And sometimes today you can even see the sun!" Her good humor was suddenly restored. She loved Ithilien, and could see Aragorn did, too. "That in itself makes it a special day!" The men all agreed heartily.

In a few moments, they had made their farewells to everyone and were re-mounted and ready to go. Refusing their invitation to come along, Faramir had merely bid them goodbye as they rode down the path, the wolfhound Grima close on the heels of Eomer's horse.

* * *

"You should have gone with them," Eowyn said later that night, returning Faramir's kiss as she started up the stairs. "Why didn't you?"

He shrugged. "Mostly because I did not want to." They held hands as they went down the hallway, peeking in to check on the children. Elboron had his own room, but the others shared, Theoden and Eomund together in one room, Barahir and Sam in another. Everyone was sleeping peacefully. Faramir continued the conversation as they walked down the hallway to their own chambers. "They need time to be alone, without me along."

"Faramir," Eowyn shook her head. "The King and my brother would be glad to have you along."

"I know," he answered. "But when I am there, they cannot be just Aragorn and Eomer, enjoying themselves. They become King Elessar and Eomer-King, my brother-in-law." He said it in such a way that she laughed. "Let them ride around the countryside, hunting, talking, comparing the troubles of governing, and sharing notes on my faults."

"What?!" Eowyn was outraged. "They would never-" She saw he was joking and stopped, feeling foolish. "Why do I listen to you?" She leaned over the kiss him again and he smiled.

"Perhaps you could make some additions to that list?"

"Never."

"I did not go with them because I wanted to be here with you," Faramir said softly as he gently patted her stomach and Eowyn gave him a pleased look.

As they entered their bedroom, Eowyn was happy to see the chamberlain had up built the fire as she had asked. It had been the coldest, wettest February she could ever remember, and with the rain going on for days and days it seemed as if the house was never quite warm enough for her, lately. Tonight, however, the fire leaping in the grate had the room toasty and she paused and held her hands before the warmth. Preparing for bed she turned her head to listen. "Is it raining again?"

"Yes," Faramir looked out the window. "Coming down in buckets." He raised his eyebrows. "They will have a wet camp tonight."

* * *

At first Eowyn did not know what had awakened her. She lay in bed, snuggled under the warm blankets and pressed up against Faramir's naked back, her ears pricked as she tried to hear anything out of the ordinary. The soft, steady breathing beside her told her whatever had woken her had not been heard by her husband, but that was not unusual. Years of children, with their bad dreams and sudden illnesses, had honed her mother's ear for any suspicious noise at night and she often awoke when he did not. For a long moment she listened but heard nothing except the by now familiar sound of pouring rain, and she finally decided it had been only some odd nighttime noise. The child within her turned and she smiled, pressing her hand over her stomach. Closing her eyes, she relaxed against Faramir again, letting drowsiness steal back over her.

"…in the name of the King!" Through the rain outside she heard the faint shout again and this time she sat up in bed, reaching over to shake Faramir only to find he was also awake. He was up and pulling on a pair of breeches even as the shout was repeated, louder this time, closer to the house. "Open the door, in the name of the King!" Eowyn felt along the bottom of the bed for her robe and quickly wrapped it around her. A sudden pounding on the door caused her to jump, even as Eomer's voice thundered up through the storm.

"Faramir!! Eowyn! Open up!!" The urgency in his voice started Eowyn's heart hammering in her chest as she took the large candle sconce from the night stand and followed Faramir down the hallway and stairs to the front door. The pounding started again just as Faramir reached the last step, Eomer's blows threatening to break down the door as he shouted once more. "Faramir!!"

Faramir had finished pulling on a shirt as he raced down the steps and he reached the door just as the house matron did. Motioning her back, he flung it open, letting in a great gust of wind and rain.

Eomer came through the door like some spector from a ghost story in Eowyn's childhood memory. He was thoroughly soaked, his fair hair plastered to his skull and streaming down his back, his eyes wild in a pale face. His clothing was drenched and mud-spattered, molded close to his body, and in his arms was the King.

"Aragorn!" Faramir cried out his name involuntarily and Eowyn felt a sick rush of fear flood through her as Eomer placed the limp body on the rug before the door and the rest of the guards crowded in behind him. Eowyn's first thought was blood. Blood everywhere, covering the king, covering Eomer, dripping onto the rug and the floor. Everywhere she looked there seemed to be the bright crimson fluid.

"What happened?" Faramir was already kneeling on the floor beside the king and pulling at his clothes, trying to find the source of the hemorrhage.

"Don't." Eomer's hands blocked those of his brother-in-law. "I've got it slowed, if you unwrap it, it will start up again."

Eowyn suddenly came to herself and turned, calling for the house matron. "Nan, Nan!" She had barely spoken before the woman appeared beside her; she had forgotten she was near. "I'll need bandages and warm water, and the sewing needles, and –" Eowyn looked down at the king's white face and steeled herself. "Never mind, come with me and help me gather everything." She took a step and put her hand on Faramir's shoulder, seeing her own panic reflected in his eyes when he looked up at her. "Put him in our chambers, it's the warmest," she said. "I'll be there in a moment." He nodded and lifted Aragorn's legs as Eomer took his shoulders. Together they carried him up the stairs.

The rest of the king's retinue still stood dripping in the entrance hall and Eowyn quickly turned to them. "Is anyone else hurt?" Two of the men hesitantly stepped forward, one clutching a bloody arm and the other with a gaping slash to his neck. Nan pointed to both of them and ordered them to follow one of the maids to the kitchen, assuring Eowyn the girl could tend to their wounds. Those unhurt were escorted by another servant to the White Company's barracks to get washed and warmed up.

In the small room off of the kitchen where Eowyn kept all her healing supplies she frantically grabbed anything she thought she might need; bandages, sewing supplies, assorted herbs and ointments, and threw them into a large basket that Nan held ready. When she had everything she could think of she moved as fast as she could to the stairs, noticing as she climbed that each step had at least one large, scarlet droplet splashed on it. Before she could say anything one of the young housemaids appeared with a bucket of soapy water and a towel and began to wipe up each bloodstain. Eowyn felt a cold shiver as another rolled up the rug that now had a large wet spot on it and carried it out of the hall. So much blood, in just the few moments he had lain there. She closed her eyes and gripped the railing.

"My lady?" Nan grasped her arm with concern.

"I'm all right." Eowyn immediately straightened and continued up the stairs. "Let's go tend to the king."

As she reached the top of the stairs she saw a small figure coming down the hall. Despite her worry she put on a smile as Theoden approached her. "Mother, I heard voices, is Uncle Eomer here?"

Eowyn leaned down to kiss her second-born. Except for his Rohirric name he was an exact copy of his father, large, serious grey eyes, dark hair, always in the library reading some book of Elvish legends. "Yes, but we are very busy, sweetheart. If you will go back to bed, you can see him in the morning." Theoden yawned and nodded sleepily, turning to go back to his room. "And if anyone else wakes up, Theo, tell them the same thing," she said to his back and he gave a little wave to let her know he had heard, a gesture she had seen Faramir give a thousand times. She heard his door close as she hurried down the hallway to her own chambers.

* * *

"What happened?" Faramir's voice was quiet as he and Eomer gently laid Aragorn on his and Eowyn's bed, stretching his long legs across the mattress. Now that he had had a few minutes to assess the situation, Faramir had slipped into the role of calm management that always served him so well. He pulled Aragorn's muddy boots from his feet as Eomer placed the pillows beneath his head. Beside them a servant lit every lantern or candle available in the house and placed them on the tables nearest the bed and put several more logs on the leaping fire in the fireplace. Outside the hard thrumming of the rain continued.

"Wargs." Eomer's answer was short and succinct, his frown deeper than anytime Faramir could remember.

Faramir gaped at his brother-in-law for a moment as the word processed through his brain. "Wargs??" He repeated it as if it were from an unknown language. "There aren't any wargs in Ithilien."

"It would appear you are mistaken," said Eomer in a hushed, savage tone. He met Faramir's gaze, his blond brows furrowed with worry. "I know what I saw."

Eowyn came into the room with Nan carrying the supplies and both men moved away from the bed to allow her room. She seated herself beside Aragorn and took a deep breath, then began to remove his clothing, directing Nan to be ready with the bandages.

Eowyn tried to focus her mind of the fact that this was a dreadfully injured man, not the King of Gondor that she was undressing, not Aragorn her friend, lying here unconscious soaking her bed with his blood. The sodden clothes were ripped and torn, saturated with rainwater and the king's blood, and were so heavy and unwieldy she had to have Faramir and Eomer help her pull them from the flaccid body on the bed. As they removed Aragorn's shredded tunic, Eowyn saw several long cuts slashed across his left shoulder and upper chest, evidence that a huge paw had raked across the flesh. They looked dangerous and painful, but bad as they appeared, they were not the source of the massive flow of blood; that was further down. As she reached for the waist of the breeches, Eomer caught her hand.

"Eowyn, it took me a long time to get the bleeding even to slow, when you pull the bandage off, I'm sure it will start again, I fear he may have a cut artery. Be ready." She nodded and motioned for Nan to be prepared. Faramir helped her to carefully peel off Aragorn's wet breeches revealing three hideously deep gashes running across his belly and into his groin. Eomer's makeshift bandage was drenched with blood and she could see it pooled beneath the material, knew that as soon as she removed the cloth the flow would start again. Her nostrils flared slightly as the rich, coppery smell filled the room.

"Oh, Eomer," she said in dismay, suddenly terrified. Her experiences in healing had not prepared her for this. Scratched knees and fevers with the boys, once a broken arm with one of the grooms, but nothing had readied her for ripped and lacerated flesh like this, with blood pouring copiously forth. She looked at Aragorn's injuries with horror. "I cannot do anything with this, we need someone else."

"There is no one else, Eowyn," said Eomer quietly.

She looked up at Faramir, her green eyes wide and frightened. "Faramir, I don't know how to help this, I don't know what to do. He needs to go to the Houses of Healing, in the city." She looked back down at the terrible wounds and shook her head in denial.

Faramir knelt down beside her and took her hands in his. "Eowyn, my love, listen to me." He spoke quietly but intensely and in his grey eyes she saw his own concern for the king. "He cannot make it to the city. He will bleed to death first. You must do this." He squeezed her fingers between his as he got to his feet. "We will help you, tell us what to do," he said encouragingly.

Eowyn sat still, trying to calm her racing heart and mind. She looked up at Aragorn's still, white face and as she did so, she felt the baby move again inside her and she had the sudden thought that everything good in her life, everything that she had, her husband, her family, her own life, was because Aragorn had come for her that day, come through the fog of his own weariness and through the blackness of her own despair, to call her out from the darkness, to lead her out from under the heavy cloud of the Black Breath. He had saved her, and Faramir, and her life was full and rich only because of the king. She could not do less for him now. With a determined sigh, she looked up at her husband.

"All right, do as I tell you," she said. "When I put the bandage on here, press down HARD." She took Faramir's hand and positioned it over the bandage where it covered the deepest gash at the bottom of Aragorn's groin. "Eomer," she crooked a finger to her brother, causing him to move closer to her. "You pull the bandage off when I say. Nan," she looked at her house matron. "Get me some towels." Without a word the woman was on her feet and had gone, returning in seconds with several folded pieces of thick cloth. Eowyn checked to see that Faramir was ready. He was poised over the injured area, watching for her signal. "Good," she said and turned to Eomer. "Ready?" He nodded. "All right, go ahead." She took the first towel from Nan and as Eomer slid his bandage off, the blood leaped out from beneath it, jetting across Aragorn's body. Frantically Eowyn replaced the bandage with the towel and Faramir pushed down as hard as he could, putting all of his weight into the action.

In seconds the folded cloth was reddening, the precious life fluid saturating the material. Eowyn felt a quiver of fear and looked up at her brother. "We'll take this one off, too, ready?" Once again they traded a clean cloth for a blood-soaked one, but now Eomer reached over and added his weight to Faramir's, both of them putting pressure on the wound. It took longer for the blood to seep through this time, and several minutes passed before the towel was soaked. Eowyn let herself have the slightest hope of success. Motioning to Nan to get the third towel ready, she swiftly placed it over the second, joining her hands to Faramir's and pressing down. Together the three of them kept up a steady pressure and this time the towel showed only the barest red spot in the center, no bigger than Eowyn's hand, and it grew no larger. She waited, listening to the rain hammer down on the roof, her eyes focused on the small spot.

After several minutes had passed and the stain stayed the same size, Eowyn allowed herself a tiny sigh of relief, even though she knew they were far from being out of danger. Easing her hands away from her husband's, she looked up at Faramir. "I want to keep pressure on it for a while, yet." He nodded, keeping his hands locked together and his weight on the injured area as Eomer did the same. There was silence in the bedchamber for a long while, only the sound of the rain outside and everyone's nervous breathing, broken by an occasional snap from the fire.

"How long before we know?" Eomer asked quietly after it seemed an eternity had passed.

Eowyn glanced at Aragorn's unmoving face before cautiously motioning the two men to ease up so she could pull the towel away and examine the lacerations. The blood welled up, but slowly and she could dab it away with the edge of the cloth as she gently probed the gashes. The top two were deep and deadly looking, but the bottom one was the worst; the claws of the warg had sliced through at least two inches of skin and muscle and near the bottom of the cut Eowyn could see the nicked artery, the blood now pulsing more slowly from a tiny slit where the edge of a claw had caught it.

"It is a very small cut," she said softly. "If we can keep the pressure on it, it should clot." She reached out to Nan for another towel and pressed it against the wound. "Faramir, put your hand back." She motioned with her head and he immediately returned to his previous position. Several more minutes passed before Eowyn decided she would look again.

Warily Faramir lessened his weight, pulling back ever so slightly while they all kept a close watch on the towel beneath his hand. As he eased the pressure he was putting forth, Faramir watched for any sign of fresh blood on the cloth. Bit by bit he pulled back until finally he was barely touching Aragorn at all and only the smallest spot of blood was visible on the towel. Each of them in the room breathed a little easier.

Eowyn's relief was shattered as Aragorn suddenly moaned and moved on the bed, shifting his body ever so slightly but enough that the towel beneath Farmir's hand began to turn red again.

"No, no," Eowyn cried out, laying her own hand across her husband's again and pressing down on the rapidly spreading stain.

"Faramir?" Aragorn's voice was weak and confused as his grey eyes opened and fixed dimly on Faramir's face. "What? – Why?" He levered one elbow beneath him and made an effort to sit up, causing the blood to gush through the padding Faramir held against the wound. Aragorn's face suddenly blanched and he broke out in a cold sweat as he collapsed against the pillow again. Eomer swore softly in Rohirric and once more added his weight to Faramir's on the bandage.

Aragorn was now semi-conscious and he reached down, trying to find the source of his pain. Quickly Faramir grasped the groping hands in his own and held them back, the loss of his pressure letting the blood surge through the bandage even more rapidly. "No, my lord, you must not," he said firmly. Eowyn placed another towel over the first and she and Eomer pushed down hard as Faramir held the king's hands away from the wound, his grip slipping in the king's own blood. Aragorn's eyes rolled back slightly and he whispered to Faramir. "How fares the city, my lord Steward?"

Eowyn looked up, realizing that in his confusion Aragorn thought he had been injured in a battle of some sort. Faramir shot an agonized look at her before he answered the king. "The city fares well, my lord. Now you must lie still." Aragorn swallowed and nodded slightly, his face deathly white, his eyes half closed as he breathed in shallow gasping breaths.

Nan handed her mistress the last of the towels she had brought and helped her place it over the others that were dripping wet with the king's blood. "You need more bandages, my lady," she said, speaking softly.

Eowyn nodded her head in agreement. "Bring whatever you can find, Nan," she said, then paused. "And bring me the bottle of camwort." She saw the house matron hesitate only a second before she gave a short bow and left the room. "Yes, my lady."

She could feel Faramir's eyes on her and looked up to meet his troubled grey gaze. "Camwort, Eowyn? Is that safe?"

She shook her head. "No, Faramir, is it not, but he must be still or we will never get the bleeding stopped."

Eomer looked back and forth at them worriedly. "What is this camwort? Is it dangerous?"

Faramir started to answer but again Aragorn moved again, trying in his confusion to pull away from Faramir's grip. Again the blood spurted, trickling through the towel and between Eomer's fingers. Eowyn felt a wild spiral of panic in her stomach at the amount of blood pooling beneath the king's body, fearing that he would bleed to death in her and Faramir's bed as she stood by helplessly. Frantically she pulled the coverlet from the bed and pressed one corner against the blood-soaked towel.

Nan burst into the room with an armload of towels and some sheets and blankets, anything she had been able to find in the few seconds she was gone, and a tiny earthenware bottle clutched in her hand. Wordlessly she handed it to her mistress. Eowyn uncorked the bottle and stood uncertainly by the bed for a moment.

"What does it do?" asked her brother, his eyes dark with worry. "Why are you so fearful of using it?"

"It's medicine, from the lands of Harad," said Faramir quietly. "It makes you sleep."

Eomer shrugged his shoulders slightly and gave each of them a questioning look. "That would be good, wouldn't it? He would be still."

Eowyn held the bottle and looked at the king, his head now rolling restlessly on the pillow as his hands twitched in Faramir's grasp and he moaned softly in his bewildered state. "It is very strong, Eomer. If you use it in the wrong way, you can kill the person."

Eomer's eyes widened as he looked at his sister, then he shifted his gaze to Faramir and then to Aragorn moving in agitation on the bed. He could feel the king's blood warm upon his hands and saw the stain widening across the velvet coverlet. When he looked back up he saw Eowyn and Faramir's eyes were locked on each other and at last Faramir nodded. "Do it, Eowyn. We do not seem to have any other choice."

With trembling hands Eowyn wiped the blood covering them on the coverlet and tipped the bottle to spill one tiny, viscous drop of a pale green fluid onto her finger. It sat there, glimmering in the firelight, no bigger than one of the seed pearls in her ring. She moved to the edge of the bed and caught the restless head of the king in her other hand, stroking his forehead gently and murmuring quiet words of comfort. Holding her breath, she slid her finger between Aragorn's blue-tinged lips and rubbed the miniscule droplet across his tongue.

In seconds the king's body relaxed, his head sinking back into the pillow, his cold hands slipping limply from Faramir's as he gently placed them on the bed. Eowyn laid her own hand close to Aragorn's face to assure herself he was breathing and felt a vast relief at the soft warm air she felt flow across her fingers.

"Now," she said as she turned back to Eomer. "Press as hard as you can." Taking a folded sheet from Nan, she resumed her attempts to stem the bleeding, placing the sheet over the bloody towels and motioning to both Faramir and Eomer to again put their weight on it.

* * *

It took longer this time to stop the bleeding, and desperate moments passed when Eowyn began to despair of ever seeing the flow lessen, but at last, when it seemed nearly every towel she owned was lying in a bloody pile on the bedchamber floor, the hemorrhage finally clotted over and stopped. She held back a sob of relief even as she heard Faramir's gusty sigh across the bed from her. With cautious movements Eowyn tied a bandage on tightly, wrapping a strip of torn sheet around Aragorn's groin and belly to hold the cloth even more closely in place as he lay limp and quiet beneath her hands.

As she sat back a moment and massaged her aching back, Eowyn could still hear the rain outside pounding down and had a moment's worry about rising water. But it was quickly pushed to the back of her mind as she straightened and began to tend to Aragorn's other wounds. Nan was an able helper and she had the needle and thread ready, the smaller bandages prepared and a basin of hot water with a cloth to wash out the shallower cuts.

Eowyn gently blotted the slashes across Aragorn's shoulder and chest, making sure they were clean before she stitched them closed. Beside her, as they washed their blood-covered hands in the basin that stood by the bed, Eomer told Faramir what had happened earlier in the night.

"We couldn't camp at the caves, they were flooded, as Aragorn had suspected. We set up camp on a nearby ridge. The rain started again just as we finished putting up the tents and were eating." Eomer crossed his arms, not noticing the blood smeared across his clothes, and frowned as he talked. "Aragorn suggested coming back here, but I said we would get just as wet coming back as staying, so we decided to stay." He sighed and looked at the fire. "Perhaps if we had…"

Faramir shook his head. "Those kind of thoughts serve no purpose, Eomer. Tell me about the wargs." His eyes narrowed as Eomer continued his story.

"They came right into the camp. I've never seen anything like it." He moved away from the bed and went to stand before the fireplace, his still wet clothes steaming slightly in the heat. "They came into the tents. I can only guess they have been flooded out of their lairs and are starving and roaming the countryside. They were even more vicious than usual, they attacked anything that moved."

"How many?" Faramir's eyes never left Eowyn's hands as she tended to the king.

"At least eight, maybe more. It was dark and with the rain, I'm not sure." Eomer suddenly leaned against the mantel of the fireplace. "We killed two, but not before they killed three of our men, two of Rohan and one of Aragorn's guards."

Eowyn gasped and Faramir turned quickly to him. "What? Why didn't you say something earlier?"

Eomer straightened his shoulders and faced his brother-in-law. "To what purpose? They were dead, and Aragorn is not. I could not have helped them."

"We'll send someone after the bodies in the morning," said Faramir quietly. Eomer shook his head.

"The wargs will have devoured them by then." He closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead tiredly. "We had to leave some of the horses. They'll be gone, too."

Faramir returned his gaze to Aragorn. "How did you save the king?"

Eomer smiled grimly. "I didn't. We were in the same tent, just talking, and suddenly one of them was in there, right on top of us. He had Aragorn and was dragging him outside before I even knew what was happening. But then the dog attacked him."

Eowyn halted her ministrations and looked at her brother, her eyes wide. He nodded and gave a short laugh that held no amusement. "Yes, Eowyn, Grima saved the king, gave his life for him, in fact." His mouth suddenly twisted and he turned back to the fire. Eowyn stayed quiet and continued with her sewing and bandaging. Faramir lowered his eyes for a moment before looking up and giving Eomer more than a cursory glance for the first time that night.

The King of Rohan slumped wearily as he leaned against the mantel piece, his hair still wet and tangled, his clothing now half dried but still damp with mud, rain and blood. Crossing the room, Faramir tentatively took him by the shoulder, knowing his brother-in-law was not one to accept comfort easily. "Sit down, here, and get dry." He motioned to a large chair that had been pushed aside in all the confusion. Eowyn often sat in it at night, nursing a baby or just enjoying the fire.

Showing more reluctance than he actually felt, Eomer allowed himself to be eased into the chair and let Faramir help him remove his clammy tunic. As he pulled the damp sleeves from Eomer's arms, Faramir could see several bloody scratches on the muscled biceps and definite teethmarks on Eomer's shoulder.

"It seems Aragorn was not the only victim," he said quietly. Eomer glanced at the cuts and made a dismissive gesture with his head.

"They are nothing serious. The thing was half dead, I was trying to get Aragorn out from under it." He leaned his head back against the chair and sighed, suddenly feeling all of the forty years that he had reached this past winter.

"Hmm." Faramir was eying a long tear in Eomer's breeches along his thigh that was surrounded by a large wet blotch. Saying nothing, he turned back to Eowyn. "How goes it?"

She leaned back a little, letting him see her and Nan's progress. The gory wounds across Aragorn's body were now each cleansed and stitched and hidden beneath thick bandages. Nan rinsed a cloth in clean water and handed it to Eowyn, who gently wiped the blood from the king's face and hands as he lay motionless. "I think we have done all that we can," she said softly, "I'd like to put him on clean sheets, but I dare not move him, not for a while at least." She returned the cloth to Nan and sat back in the chair.

"Then perhaps you can tend to your brother." Faramir shifted his eyes to the thigh wound and Eowyn's followed. Instantly she was beside Eomer. "Were you going to say anything about this? Or just let it bleed? Stand up." She pulled him to his feet and began pulling off his breeches as if he were one of the boys. He grabbed at them and glared at her. "Eowyn!"

"What? I'm your sister, let me see." She pulled at the waist of the breeches again, this time succeeding in pulling them down far enough to see a ragged gash.

"It's not that bad," said Eomer as his sister fussed and retrieved her needle and thread from Nan.

"Be quiet and let me sew." Eowyn commanded. As she tended to the cut she had to admit that after Aragorn's grievous wounds it did not seem too serious. Eomer set his jaw stoically and looked away as she carefully stitched the edges of skin together. Faramir returned to the bed as she worked, his eyes fixed on the king's face. Except for the rapid rise and fall of chest as he breathed, Aragorn looked dead, his face white and peaceful, his body unmoving. Faramir knew that was the effect of camwort, and had seen it used twice before, but it was still unnerving, the total stillness that it caused. One of the two men Faramir had seen under its influence had died, but whether from his wounds or too much of the drug, he didn't know, although he had heard stories of healers with good intentions and a heavy hand accidentally overdosing their patients.

Still, as he had told Eowyn, they had had no other choice. He looked at the heap of bloody cloths on the floor and felt a cold chill of fear. They still might lose him; Faramir had seen men bleed to death in battle and regardless of the storied vitality of those with Numenorean lineage, he knew Aragorn had come close. He went to sit on the bed beside him, but then thought better of causing any movement and stayed on his feet. Behind him Eowyn finished her doctoring and settled Eomer back in the chair.

"Sit here and rest," she said softly, giving him a gentle pat on the unharmed shoulder. He grunted as she gathered up her medical supplies. Straightening up, she felt an unexpected wave of weakness and put a hand to her head, suddenly realizing she was exhausted. She quickly put her hand down, hoping no one had noticed, but of course Faramir's eyes had caught her movement and he was beside her right away.

"You need to go to bed." He took the handful of used bandages and the needle from her hands and took her arm. "I want you to go lie down." She began to protest but Faramir guided her gently but insistently into the hallway, stopping before Elboron's room.

"What are you doing?" She couldn't help leaning against him, feeling his strong arm around her. "I can sleep in one of the guest rooms."

"They aren't warm enough, there are no fires lit." He knocked softly on the door before he opened it.

Elboron sat up in bed, his green eyes fuzzy with sleep. "Father?"

"Your mother needs to lie down and she needs your bed." Faramir motioned to the boy to climb out and he did so without delay, even as the questions started.

"Why? What's wrong?" His eyes widened as he looked at his parents. "You've got blood on you!"

Faramir shook his head at his son. "In a moment." He lightly pushed Eowyn down into the still warm sheets. "Get some rest."

Eowyn tried to glare at him, but her fierce look was interrupted by a huge yawn and she saw Faramir suppress a distracted smile. "You were wonderful, my love. No healer in the city could have done as well." He kissed her and tucked the blanket around her. "Now get some sleep. Nan or I can take care of everything else."

"I can't sleep," said Eowyn as another yawn overtook her. "What if you need something…"

"I promise to come get you if it's necessary," said Faramir soberly, backing slowly out of the room followed by Elboron, the look of complete confusion still on his face. Faramir pulled the door shut behind him and Eowyn lay quiet for a moment, listening the rain. In a matter of minutes she was asleep.

TO BE CONTINUED

* * *

**NOTES:** Okay, first – I KNOW Faramir's GRANDSON is named Barahir, and here I made it his son's name. Boys ARE sometimes named after fathers or favorite uncles, you know. There is a reason I did this, hopefully I'll get the side story written one day. Just work with me here, okay?

Second – Thanks to Raksha the Demon for beta'ing and giving excellent suggestions and pointing out inconsistencies! And for letting me use the term "Eowyn Wraithbane", which she and Clarion used first in the Come to Harm story. (which is really good – check it out, well, first read Made to Suffer, and then you can enjoy the third installment Home to Heal that they are working on now.

Third – I invented the word "camwort" for my Haradric sedative. There is not such thing in the "real" Middle Earth…


	2. Faramir

**Faramir**

****

* * *

Eowyn awoke groggily, wondering for a moment where she was and in whose bed. A bleary glance around the room showed a shelf holding books, a battered orc helmet and a small statue of a horse, caved of a dark red wood. Seeing a dull sword that had once been Eomer's hanging on a hook, she remembered she was in Elboron's room. Through the window she could see a faint grey light and hear a steady drumming and realized that even though it was morning the rain had not abated. For a moment disappointment flared before the memory of the previous night came to her and she rolled clumsily to the edge of Elboron's bed and got up to make her way to her own room.

Entering quietly she found Faramir sitting in a chair beside the bed, his grey eyes looking both tired and troubled as he kept them on Aragorn, still lying exactly as he had been hours ago when Eowyn had gone to bed. He straightened and smiled as she came toward him. "You look much better."

She answered him with a soft kiss on the head and looked down at the king, lying pale and silent on the bed. "You do not. How is he?"

Faramir sighed as he sat back in the chair. "I don't know. The same, I guess. I checked the bandage a short while ago. There has been some bleeding, but nothing like before."

"Good." Eowyn reached down and felt Aragorn's cheek. It was warm, not the cold, sweaty flesh of last night, and she felt slightly heartened.

"He hasn't moved since you left," Faramir said. "Not a bit."

"That's what camwort does," his wife said softly, "you know that."

"I know." Faramir suddenly hunched forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and clasped his hands in front of him. "But it's still strange, unnatural." He looked up at her, and she could see through his calm expression to the worry underneath. "Do you think it was too much?"

"No, my love." She stood beside him and put an arm around him. "I was worried when I first gave it to him, but once I saw he was still breathing, I knew it was all right. Just be patient, he will awaken. Although," she pursed her lips thoughtfully. "If he wakes up too soon, I may give him more."

"Eowyn!"

She looked at him with a raised eyebrow. "I will if I must. Faramir, he has got to be absolutely still for as long as possible." She looked around the room, seeing for the first time it was empty. "Where is Eomer?"

"Sleeping in one of the guest rooms," said Faramir.

"I thought they weren't warm enough?"

"Not warm enough for you." He returned Eowyn's annoyed look. "What? I don't worry about him keeping warm, he could sleep out in the rain and it wouldn't bother him. He's fine." She thought about arguing but knew Faramir was right and said nothing more about it. "And the boys?"

"After I got Elboron up, I gave him a mission. Once their lessons are finished this morning he is to keep all of his brothers quiet and out of trouble until tomorrow, at least."

"Poor boy!" Eowyn gave Faramir a doubtful look. "Is there a reward if he succeeds?"

"Actually, yes." Faramir put his arm around her waist as far as he was able and leaned against her tiredly and rubbed his eyes. "That black colt he's been mooning after."

Eowyn smiled to herself, knowing her eldest had inherited the Rohirric love of horses and that was a sure way to get his best efforts from him. She kissed the top of Faramir's head again and stood quietly, watching Aragorn's soft breathing. It was some time before she became aware of the way Faramir's hands were trembling where they lay against her and that he had pressed his face into her clothing.

"Faramir?" She turned and took his face in her hands, raising his eyes to her, to find the stormy grey depths bright with tears. "What's the matter?" He pulled away from her and hung his head, once more hunching over his knees.

"It's nothing," he said in a shaky voice, rubbing his hand across his mouth and clearing his throat.

"What do you mean 'nothing'?" Eowyn slowly maneuvered herself down to kneel beside him and look up into his face. "You're crying. You never cry." Indeed he did not. Eowyn couldn't remember Faramir ever giving in to tears except once when Theoden had been a tiny baby and become very ill. They had been sure the infant would die and Faramir had wept brokenly beside the cradle. But Theoden had survived and since that time Eowyn had not seen Faramir lose control. Now she gently brushed his face with her hand, wiping away the tear that had escaped, her eyes full of love and concern. "What's wrong?"

He shook his head and looked away from her. "I was afraid last night, Eowyn." His voice was rough and he gave her a grimace that she knew he meant to be a reassuring smile as his eyes drifted over to rest on Aragorn and she saw his mouth tremble slightly. "I was so afraid he would die." He dropped his head and let it rest against her again.

Eowyn put her arms around him and held him close. She knew that while Aragorn had never replaced Boromir's place in Faramir's heart, he had come the closest, and her husband loved his king with a fierce, brotherly love. In all the chaos last night she had not given it any thought, but now, holding Faramir and stroking his dark hair comfortingly, she realized how devastated he would be if anything happened to Aragorn. He suddenly withdrew from her and rubbed his jaw, trying to cover his embarrassment at his loss of control, even to her. Eowyn knew fatigue sometimes caused him to drop his guard for just a few moments and ran her hand through his hair lovingly, trying to ease his discomfort.

She lowered her hands to grip his. "But he did not die, my love. He made it through the night and we got the worst of the bleeding stopped." She squeezed his hands tightly. "We have passed through the hardest part."

"I know," he said, leaning down so that his forehead rested against hers. "I know." He took a moment to compose himself, then stood up and pulled Eowyn to her feet before seating her in the chair beside the bed. "I have to go," he said. "I have to get to the city. The Queen must be told, and I need to be there."

Eowyn had expected this and she merely nodded at his words. Through all the years of their marriage she had understood his duty to Gondor, and his sense of responsibility. She thought about trying to convince him to get some sleep before he set off, but knew even if she did get him to stay a little longer, he would not rest, so she said nothing. What's more, he was right, Arwen must be informed of Aragorn's injuries, and Gondor would need her Steward now. "Be careful," was all she said.

He hugged her tightly and they kissed, slowly, a promise and an affirmation, and then he was gone, leaving her alone with the king. She sat beside the bed and reached for Aragorn's hand, feeling wide, square fingers, not the long, tapered hands of her husband. She held his large hand between her two smaller ones, stroking it gently, and thinking how much she loved this man. Not the way she loved Faramir, of course, not a passionate love, not the soul-melding love that made her and Faramir two halves of a whole, but a deep, trusting love, a warm, comfortable feeling that she had known since he had smiled at her and wished her joy at her engagement to Faramir so many years ago. Her mouth curved up in a smile as she thought of him that day, so alive and vital, and she watched the still form on the bed a little more closely.

The barest knock sounded on the door and when it opened at her word Eomer's face peered in. His eyes stayed fixed on the form of the king as he crossed the room. "How is he?"

"He's alive," she said, "that in itself is something to rejoice in."

Her brother looked hopeful. "I saw Faramir in the hall. I'm going with him to Minas Tirith. I can do nothing for you here, and I may be of assistance to him in the city. If I stay here, I'll just be underfoot, and Lothiriel will come, and the last thing you need is our brood added to yours."

Eowyn gave her brother a wide smile. She got along well enough with her sister-in-law, but Eomer was right, their four children added to her five would not make for a restful environment for the king's recuperation. "All right." She rose and went to give him a swift hug and kiss. As she drew back she saw his eyes resting on Aragorn with a troubled expression and she reached up and rubbed at the lines on his forehead. "You saved his life."

"Not I," he said. "You." The smallest of teasing grins appeared on his face. "You and that dog."

Eowyn let a chuckle escape her. "You'll never let me forget that!" His grin widened and he left the room, limping slightly on the injured leg, Eowyn noticed, but taking her assurances to heart and in good spirits again.

* * *

Shortly after noon Faramir and Eomer were saddled and riding down the muddy path accompanied by the remainder of Eomer's guards and a group from the White Company, even as the rain continued. The temperature had dropped slightly and now it was a cold drizzle, nearly sleet, that fell from the sky. Eowyn watched them go from the veranda, peering through the mist until they disappeared from sight, already feeling bereft and alone. She had left Nan watching over Aragorn and now headed to the kitchen to have lunch and see to her sons. The tutor was usually finished with the boys well before noon, but there had been a suspicious silence throughout the house all morning, and she was wondering what activity Elboron had managed to find to keep his little brothers all so quiet.

The kitchen was empty save for the requisite cooks and maids, and when Eowyn asked about the boys the head cook rolled her eyes. "They've been in Lord Faramir's library since this morning. I was just told to deliver "field rations" to them, by a note that came with one of the maids."

"Field rations?" Eowyn laughed. "What on earth do they mean by that?"

The older woman looked embarrassed. "Oh, we call it that sometimes when they get busy playing something. It's food like soldiers would take, bread, cheese, perhaps some dried meat or fruit. They can eat wherever they are, rather than come down here and sit down proper." She blushed slightly at her mistress's expression. "It's just for fun."

"It sounds lovely." Eowyn meant her words. "Well, pack it up and I will deliver it." The rations were prepared and soon thereafter she was knocking on the library door with a large box of food such as one might take on an extended campaign. The sound of raised voices came through the door.

"Enter and be recognized!" Theoden's voice came sternly as the door swung open. His expression matched his tone until he recognized his mother coming into the library. Eowyn stopped short in shock. Every toy soldier the boys owned between them, and that was a horrific number, was strategically placed about the library floor. There were mountains built of piles of books, and what she assumed was a large river, represented by a long sheet of something that looked suspiciously like the blue silk table runner from the front hall.

She had apparently interrupted a rather strident argument between Barahir and Sam as to who was in charge of a particular group of tiny Ranger figures, as both boys were squared off and appeared to be close to tears, Barahir's hands clutching a small warrior as Sam tried to pry his fingers open. Elboron was between them, talking and cajoling even as he frowned at them.

"Mother!" Theoden's voice squeaked in surprise and his brothers quickly turned to her. Immediately they crowded around her, peppering her with questions. "Where is Father going? Why didn't Uncle Eomer stay? You said we could see him. Is that lunch in the box?"

Eowyn quickly set the box down beside her in almost the only clear spot on the floor. "What is all of this?" she asked.

"We're playing War of the Ring!" said Barahir excitedly. "Elboron is in charge of the city," he pointed to Faramir's favorite chair, now draped with a light-colored blanket and covered with small soldiers. "And Theoden is here on the Pelennor," another wave to indicate the green carpet littered with miniature men. "And I am a Captain of the Rangers, just like Father!"

"No, I am!" Sam angrily resumed his attempt to wrestle the coveted piece from Barahir's hand.

"No, me!" Barahir's blue eyes snapped under his blond brows as he resisted his younger brother. "You have to be an orc."

"Boys, boys." Eowyn shushed them and looked at her middle son, crouched under the desk. "And who are you?"

Eomund looked at her and grinned. "I'm the General of the orcs, and I'm going to raze Minas Tirith to the ground!"

"Don't count on it," commented Elboron dryly and Eowyn couldn't help but laugh. She had them clear the battlefield enough so that they could spread out the cloth she had in the box and set out the food. As the younger ones ate, Eowyn drew Elboron aside to the door to speak quietly.

"This was a wonderful idea, Bron. I'll make sure to tell your father what a good job you have done with your brothers." Her eldest flushed with pleasure but then gave her a worried look.

"How is the king?"

"Did you father tell you what happened?" The boy nodded.

"I told Theoden," he said, "but not the others. I just said he was sick, I didn't want to scare them."

"Good thinking." Eowyn was both proud and sad to see how grown up he looked. "He is better, but still very, very weak."

"And Uncle?"

Eowyn smiled, knowing how close they were. "Oh, he's fine, you know how tough he is."

Elboron visibly relaxed before he spoke again. "But he and Father left-"

"They are going to the city. Your father will be very busy for a while and your uncle will be able to help him." She gave him a serious look and looked around the room at the others. "I will need your help here."

"Yes, my lady." He bowed gravely, a perfect imitation of Faramir despite his blond hair and green eyes, and grinned. She grinned back and turned to go.

"Good luck, men of Gondor!" she said and was answered by a cheer from the boys. Returning to the kitchen she fixed herself some "field rations" and ate hastily, going over any immediately vital household information with the cook. Outside the rain, which had lightened up a little when Faramir and Eomer had left began to pour down again. Eowyn suppressed a sigh of disappointment. No sunshine today.

When she was finished with her meal she returned to her chambers, dismissed Nan and seated herself in the chair, pulling back the bedcover a bit to check the bandages. The one covering the deepest cut showed where blood had seeped completely through, although compared to last night, even that was not a very large stain. Looking at the other bandages Eowyn had to pull them back from the skin to see that the blood was nearly all a rusty red, only small amounts of fresh bright crimson. She carefully changed the dressings and pulled the cover back up and tucked it around Aragorn's chest, watching the faint movement of each breath, the only sign of life visible. His face, though pale, seemed to be peaceful, the dark hair and lashes standing out starkly against the pallid skin. Gathering up the knitting she had carried upstairs she settled back in the chair and resumed her quiet vigil over the king.

* * *

An hour later she let the knitting rest on her belly, since she had no lap, and laid her head back against the chair. The ever-present rain outside had now definitely changed into icy sleet, coating everything with a fine shiny glaze. Looking through the window into the grey curtain of fog and drizzle she could see the small stream that usually snaked lazily through the field below the house was now a raging torrent of muddy water and she had a flare of worry about her husband and brother as they traveled to the city.

As though in response to her thoughts, the door to the bedchamber opened and Faramir entered, drenched to the skin. "Faramir!" Eowyn looked at him in amazement for a moment before she hurried to his side. She would have hugged him but he held out his hand to stop her and began to remove his wet clothes, trembling with cold. She saw how he shivered and added another log to the fire before she began searching for something to dry him with, since all the towels were soaking in the laundry. Pulling a heavy cloak from her clothes closet she rubbed him vigorously until the worst of the shaking had stopped and he could pull on some dry clothing.

"What are you doing back here? You're half frozen! Where is Eomer?" Eowyn's questions tumbled out.

"We couldn't get through; we had to come back." Faramir looked worried. "He isn't here?" Eowyn shook her head. "We split up on the way back. He took the usual road with his men, I took the trail that follows the ridge, to see how bad the flooding is." He gave another shiver and stepped closer to the fire. "The water is everywhere, Eowyn. I've never seen flooding like this. We couldn't even get to the main road, couldn't get across the creek there by that stand of big oak trees. That whole valley is flooded, the horses were in water past their knees most of the time. And now it's getting colder. I thought about swimming the horse across but Eomer said it would be foolish to chance it." She saw his eyes focus somewhere before him. "The Pelennor has to be under water by now, and the bridge, who knows what else." He grimaced in frustration at the same time he shuddered reflexively. "I should be there." Even in front of the blazing fire Eowyn could see him trembling with cold.

"Well, you're not and you can't get there now." Eowyn forcefully banished the picture of him urging the horse into the flooded valley from her mind. "The Queen is perfectly capable of taking care of the city for a day or two."

Faramir nodded although she could see he was aggravated by his helplessness. "I suppose." He looked toward their bed. "Any change?"

"No." Eowyn was torn between pleasure that he was back and worry that Eomer was not. Another shiver broke over Faramir and she put her arms around him and held him as closely as she could, not allowing herself to pull away from the chilled flesh. "Let's try to get you warmed up. Are you hungry, do you want something to eat?"

"No," he said, holding her against him, letting her body heat and that of the fire soak into him. They stood perfectly still for a long while, pressed against one another. "Mmm, you're warm," he said. She held him tightly until she felt the slight tremor deep inside of him stop, felt him lean tiredly on her just a little. A hesitant knock came on the door and Faramir started to straighten up, away from her embrace. Eowyn did not loosen her grip as she answered. "Yes?"

"Just to let you know, my lady, your brother is back. He and his men are at the barracks. He said to tell you." Nan's voice called through the door.

"Thank you, Nan." Eowyn breathed a sigh of relief and released Faramir, still keeping hold of his hands. "Come, now it is your turn to get some sleep."

"I'm all right." Eowyn only rolled her eyes at him and pulled him from their chamber down the hall to one of the guest rooms. She had had the chamberlain build up the fires this morning and now both this room and the one where Eomer had slept were cozy and warm.

"You have been up most of the night and ridden through that rain, you have to be exhausted." As she spoke she pulled back the covers and gestured imperiously, essentially ordering him to bed. She noticed he did not protest as he crawled between the covers and she knew he must be truly drained. After he was settled in she leaned over and kissed him, smoothing back his dark hair. "Rest." With a faint smile he let his eyes close and was asleep almost instantly. Eowyn let her fingers trail across his face before she stood up to return to Aragorn. "Sleep well, my love," she whispered.

Faramir had only been asleep for an hour or so when Eomer appeared in Eowyn's bedchamber, wet but warm and restlessly prowling. His late arrival had been the result of a change in the direction of his travel. He and the surviving Riders had ridden back to the quarry to recover the tents and equipment and what was left of the bodies of their comrades. It had been a painful task and once his sister assured him that Aragorn seemed to be doing well, Eomer devoted himself to softly but enthusiastically cursing rain, floods, sleet, cold weather, wargs, and anything else that came to mind. Eowyn knew his temper was really a cover for the anger and sadness he felt at losing good men.

Casting about for something to help distract his thoughts, keep him occupied and out of her way, Eowyn suggested he spend the time with his nephews. He readily agreed and in a little while she could hear them down on the veranda apparently running through sword drills. She listened closely, trying to hear them but the rain drowned out the sound of their voices so she stood and went to open a window, hoping to eavesdrop a little. Pushing the smaller side window open a tiny bit she heard a faintly voiced complaint from Eomund that it was too cold and rainy for outside practice. This statement was promptly met with dire warnings of what happened to young lords who were too prim and proper. Eowyn listened, smiling, able to picture perfectly Eomer's horrified expression at the idea that a warrior might be unwilling to get wet or dirty.

"Pardon, my lady." A weak voice behind her whirled Eowyn around and she saw Aragorn trying to sit up in the bed.

"No, no, my lord." She flew to the bedside as quickly as a woman near the last month of pregnancy could, and pressed him back against the mattress. "You must lie very still."

Aragorn, finding that every movement sent a wave of pain through him that made his vision swim and his heart beat madly, let her ease him back down flat on the bed and looked up in puzzlement. "Eowyn?" His last memory was of setting up a camp near the quarry, and a meal in the rain with Eomer. His eyes roved around the room, trying to make sense of his surroundings. "Where am I?"

"You are in Ithilien."

"Your house?" She nodded and smiled.

"What happened? Where is Eomer?" She saw his confusion and worried that he might try to get up again, she lay a hand across his forehead and chest and kept gentle pressure on them.

"Eomer is fine. You are not. You were attacked by wargs." He lay still, not because of her hands but because a sudden terrible lightheadedness had swept over him. Aragorn gasped slightly and closed his eyes and Eowyn leaned down, feeling panic steal through her. "My lord? Aragorn?" She removed her hand from his forehead and felt his face. "Aragorn?" She started to pull down the coverlet, fearing his movement had opened the wound once more, when his eyes opened slowly and met hers and she could see pain and dizziness and alarm mixed in them. A furtive glance at the bandage showed only a small amount of blood and she smiled at him and replaced her hand across his forehead, smoothing back the dark hair as she would a sick child.

"You're going to be all right," she said reassuringly. "You've been injured, but you're going to be all right. But you must stay as still as you can."

Aragorn gave a short nod and made no further effort to move; instead he let his body relax in the bed and waited a while, hoping the pain and dizziness would leave, or at least lessen. When it did not he groaned faintly. "Wargs?" His eyes closed again and Eowyn could see his face tense as he thought hard, trying to remember. "They came into the camp."

"Yes, so my brother said." Eowyn sat down in her chair and took his hand.

"Eomer? Where-?"

"He is fine, I promise. Please, Aragorn, don't move about." She laid a restraining hand on his bandaged shoulder as he shifted slightly in the bed and he opened his eyes and looked at her.

"What's wrong, Eowyn?" he asked softly, his eyes narrowed as he tried to force himself to concentrate. His head was spinning, the room seeming to tumble about him. "What worries you?"

"You cut an artery and nearly bled to death." Eowyn had never been one to shrink from speaking of injury or death although as she spoke her green eyes were warm and full of concern. "Any sudden movement could start the bleeding again."

Aragorn suddenly understood the overwhelming weakness that threatened to send him spiraling down into some dark place and he let a faint little moan slip from him. Beside him Eowyn patted his hand. "You must stay very quiet for a while, my lord."

He gave a small nod and then gripped the edge of the coverlet with weak fingers as another wave of dizziness washed over him. When it had passed Eowyn poured him a cup of water from the pitcher Nan had brought up earlier and helped him drink, supporting his head as he took a tentative swallow. It only took a few seconds before he was exhausted and she lowered his head back to the pillow again. His face was white and strained and she could see his pulse beating rapidly in the hollow of his throat.

"Go back to sleep. Rest will do you more good than anything else." She smoothed the blanket, tucking it around him with careful movements.

"Where's Faramir?" he asked in a faint voice. "I need to see to Faramir."

"He is just down the hall. Shall I get him for you?" He made a small movement of his head in affirmation and Eowyn rose to her feet. "You must promise me you will stay quiet."

"I promise" It was a whisper breathed dully through bluish-white lips.

Eowyn hurried down the hall and gently shook Faramir into wakefulness, hating to do so but knowing that would be what he wanted, and despite the short duration of his rest he was, as always, awake and alert in a matter of seconds and on his way to the bedchamber. Moving swiftly to the bedside he couldn't help smiling with relief to see Aragorn's grey eyes blink open and rest on him for a moment before they drifted shut again. "My lord." He took the chair Eowyn had been using and sat down, keeping his eyes on the king.

Eowyn had followed and now bent down to whisper in Faramir's ear. "Don't let him talk too much and tire himself out. I'll be back in a few minutes." He murmured in agreement and she quietly left them together, pulling the door shut behind her as she exited the room.

"How do you feel?" Faramir found that now Eowyn was gone it was easier to reach over and take the king's hand in his own, gently place his own palm against the colorless cheek. Aragorn's skin was warm and dry and Faramir was encouraged. He sat quietly for a while merely holding Aragorn's hand between his, watching each breath, inspecting each line and shadow across the bearded face. Aragorn had turned 100 last year, but he looked almost exactly as he had when Faramir had first met him, like a man in his mid-40's, a few strands of grey in the dark hair, a few more lines on his face. There were times when Faramir thought he looked much like Denethor, and felt a vague discomfort, but today Aragorn's face was so pale it was nearly luminous, the skin almost translucent. He went to sit back but the king's hand tightened just a little around his and he immediately halted. "What is it?"

"How fares Gondor, my lord Steward?" Aragorn opened his eyes and his gaze was steady as he looked at Faramir, but his voice was rough and strained, evidence of the effort he had to exert merely to keep awake and focused.

Faramir hesitated. "I know not, my lord. There is a great deal of flooding. I could not reach Minas Tirith today, although I did try. I will try again tomorrow. I apologize, Sire."

Aragorn let his eyes slip shut. "No need, Faramir." Just as it seemed he would say more Eowyn reappeared, carrying a small goblet. She motioned for Faramir to lift the king's head as she held the cup to his lips.

"Drink this, my lord, it will help you." Aragorn obediently swallowed the liquid, some small part of his brain that held his own healing knowledge recognizing the faint smell of apples as cider to cover up the bitter taste of medicinal herbs. As Faramir lowered his head Aragorn's hand lifted from the bed and grasped at his sleeve.

"Don't go," he said in a slightly pleading voice. "I must speak with you."

"You need to rest," said Eowyn firmly.

"Faramir!" Aragorn tightened his fingers where they clutched the soft cloth of Faramir's shirt.

"I will stay, fear not." Faramir gently pulled the king's hand from his sleeve and once more folded it into his own. He looked up at his wife. "If it will help him rest easier, I will stay."

Eowyn expected no less from him and nodded. "I mixed some scutellaria in with the other healing herbs in that cup, he should go back to sleep soon." she said, her voice hushed. "I'll send someone up with something for you to eat in a little while." She watched Aragorn closely while rubbing Faramir's shoulders and he made a noise of acknowledgement so that she knew he heard her, but said no more and she kissed him on the top of the head and went back down the stairs.

"Faramir, we must speak of important matters." Aragorn's voice was low and his words ran together slightly as his weakness and Eowyn's medicine worked together to persuade him to give in to slumber. "You must care for Gondor, my lord Steward." The king forced his eyes open just long enough to meet those of his Steward before they fell shut again and he breathed out a sigh. "I leave Gondor... in your… capable hands."

Faramir felt a twinge of foreboding. "Just for a short while, Sire. Until you are recovered."

Aragorn made no answer, instead seeming to sink further down into the bedcovers. His hand between Faramir's twitched slightly but he was silent.

"My lord!" Faramir felt growing alarm and reached out to shake the king's shoulder, then had second thoughts, worrying that it might agitate the wounds. Instead he squeezed Aragorn's fingers and put a hand back on his face. "Aragorn! Aragorn!"

"I hear you, Faramir," said Aragorn faintly, his eyes still closed. "But I am so weary." He turned his head painfully and looked at Faramir and the other man could see fear in a face where he had never seen it before. "Am I going to die?"

"No, Aragorn." Faramir spoke fiercely. "No. You are not. You cannot. You have too much left to do here. There is too much unfinished for you to go now." He felt a prick of horror. He had sat at the bedsides of soldiers who died, he knew how often the state of the heart could affect that of the body and he sought for something, someone, whose need might strengthen the king's will. "What of your wife? Would you leave her alone?"

"That time… will come," said Aragorn. "Whether now… or some distant future. I… will… leave…her." His words slowed and tapered off as he succumbed to Eowyn's herbal concoction, drifting down into a dreamless sleep, his face becoming tranquil as he slipped away from the reality of pain and infirmity.

"You cannot go, Aragorn." Faramir's hushed voiced was thick. "Not yet. You must fight." There was no answer from the injured man beside him and he sat without moving for a few minutes, listening to the rain on the roof, the faint voices of the boys and Eomer on the veranda below, the soft sound of Aragorn's breathing. Eventually Aragorn's hand loosened and lay limply in Faramir's, the strong, calloused fingers looking somehow childlike and defenseless. He bent his head, feeling the wetness run down his cheeks.

It hurt him to see Aragorn so powerless and frail. He had always been a strong man, a man who seemed able to carry the weight of all his responsibilities and expectations easily. To see him now, barely able to lift his head or speak a complete sentence without his face getting that strange, tight look, made Faramir feel as though the world was suddenly unbalanced, unsafe, a feeling he had not had in years, not since he had awoken to find Aragorn's face above him in the Houses of Healing long ago. Raising his head up, he leaned over and gently kissed Aragorn's forehead. "You cannot go yet, my lord. I will not let you go."

He carefully pulled one hand loose from the king's so that he could move the chair closer to the bed and settled back, still clasping Aragorn's hand, to wait as long as necessary, until the King no longer needed him.

* * *

Aragorn blinked and opened his eyes, feeling as if the act was almost beyond him. The room was dark and he knew he was lying in a bed, could hear the faint crackle of the fire nearby, could hear the sound of rain on the windows beside him. Slowly memory came back to him, the night at the quarry, darkness and rain, the sudden arrival of the wargs in the camp, in the tent itself, the hot breath and gamy smell of the beast as it tore at him. With effort he forced the thoughts to the back of his mind and shifted his eyes to look around him uncertainly.

This place was far removed from any muddy tent; the dim light of a bedside candle showed wood-paneled walls holding colorful tapestries, heavy velvet curtains softened the window wells and the fire glowed brightly beneath a mantel set with framed drawings and piled with books. Books…Faramir! Suddenly Eowyn's face swam into his memory, her words echoed in his ears. He was in Ithilien, in Faramir and Eowyn's home. He turned his head, finding that even that slight movement caused such a surge of dizziness and nausea that he was sure the room had suddenly risen up and spun around.

Beside him in a chair Faramir sat dozing, his head slumped over to one side, his long dark hair falling over his face.

"Faramir." His mouth formed the word but nothing came out. He took a deep breath, feeling a burning ripple of pain across his chest as he did and tried again. "Faramir." This time his voice functioned, not as loudly as he would have liked, but enough that his Steward heard him and sat up in his chair.

"Aragorn!" Faramir quickly reached out for Aragorn's hand, searching his face for a sign of his earlier dark mood. "How are you?"

"Tired. Tired and sore," said Aragorn. He swallowed and considered a moment. "Thirsty." In seconds Faramir had a cup of water poured and held it for him as he drank, relishing the taste of the cold liquid. He drank half a cupful and felt somewhat strengthened. As Faramir eased his head back to the pillow Aragorn looked up at him. "Is it late?"

"It is very late. It is still several hours before dawn."

Aragorn considered this information. "I have slept a long while." He could feel a throbbing ache across his belly and chest

"You have, my lord, and you need to sleep longer." Faramir gave him an encouraging smile. "You must rest and get better."

The pain started to crawl across him and Aragorn was reminded of what he had been thinking about earlier. Grey eyes rested on the Steward attentively. "I need you to write out a declaration for me, my lord Steward. Do you have parchment and ink close at hand?"

Faramir crinkled his brow, slightly puzzled. "Yes, but surely there is nothing so vital it cannot wait until you are stronger."

"No, it must be done now." Aragorn winced and bit his lip as a swell of wooziness caused him to suddenly grip Faramir's hand and groan softly. "Please."

"Of course, Sire." Faramir went immediately to a table on the far side of the room and pulled out a clean sheet of parchment and a quill and ink. When he came back to the bedside he cleared a spot on the small bedside table and lay the parchment upon it, dipping the quill into the ink and looking at the king expectantly, and with some consternation, Aragorn could see.

The king took a moment to gather his thoughts, no easy task at the moment, then closed his eyes to concentrate and when he opened them began to speak slowly and deliberately. "Given this day under my hand and seal, by his majesty King Elessar Telcontar, Ruler of Gondor and Arnor." He paused, feeling a slight queasiness from pain and fatigue beginning deep within him. "Know ye by this declaration that it is my will and wish that should illness or injury befall me that lead to my death and there be no living issue of my house-" Aragorn halted, curling his fingers into the coverlet and breathing hard.

"My lord?" Faramir moved to lay down the quill but Aragorn shook his head slightly.

"No, it will pass, wait." He panted a moment until the pain and dizziness eased and he could think clearly again and continued. "It is my desire and command that rule and control of my kingdom be given unto Faramir, son of Denethor, Prince of Ithilien and Steward of Gondor, of the House of Hurin."

Aragorn heard the scratching of the quill slow, then stop and he shifted his eyes to see Faramir staring at him, his face inscrutable. The two men looked at each other in silence, two sets of grey eyes impassive in the dim light of the fire.

"No, Aragorn." Faramir's voice was quiet and stern and his gaze steady as he looked at his king. "You will not do this."

"Faramir-"

"No."

Aragorn frowned in frustration. "It is merely a formality, Faramir. Should I die-"

"You are not going to die."

The tiniest bit of humor crept into Aragorn's eyes. "Some day…" He could see his Steward was in no mood for teasing, and truthfully, neither was he. Forgetting he was not supposed to move about Aragorn drew himself up to make his point. "Faramir, you are Steward of Gondor. If anything would happen to me, you would rule in my place. This merely-" His face twisted suddenly and he sucked in his breath as the pain abruptly clawed at him, causing a cold wave of dizziness to crash over him and he sagged back against the mattress.

"Aragorn!" Faramir dropped the quill and reached over to steady him, grasping him with strong hands. "You must not waste your strength. Do not worry about who rules Gondor after you. Concentrate on getting well." He picked up a cup of medicine that Eowyn had left with him on her way to bed. "Eowyn said if you started hurting this would help." He held it toward Aragorn, but the king clenched his teeth and shook his head. Sighing, Faramir replaced the cup and cautiously eased himself over to sit on the bed, careful to stay to the edge so as not to disturb Aragorn, who now lay limp and gasping under the blanket. "Please, Aragorn, do not talk of dying." He took the king's cold hand into his own warm one.

"I must." The king's voice was weak but determined. "If I die - there are those who would oppose your rule as Steward, Faramir; some of the factions in Arnor. There are others…" he groaned softly and his fingers dug into Faramir's palm. "Others who would have you crowned as king, even if it meant starting another civil war. I cannot allow that..." His eyes met Faramir's. "WE cannot allow that."

"I do not want to be king," said Faramir passionately. "Even if it were offered to me-"

"It does not matter!" Aragorn wished he had the strength to shout down his stubborn Steward but even his fervently whispered answer had sent a rush of silver sparkles dancing across his vision and caused his heart to race as jolts of pain shot through him. He waited until the worst of it had passed before going on in a calmer tone. "It would not matter what you want, Faramir. You know how some of the nobles are, the way they are constantly at each others throats. They need only an excuse for war. We cannot give it to them." He pulled his hand from Faramir's and reached up, grasping the younger man's forearm. "Help me put my mind to rest. Write the declaration for me."

Faramir dropped his head and wrestled with his emotions. Were it anyone else he would understand the wisdom of the action and encourage it, seeing it as nothing more than putting a generally-accepted understanding down in writing. But if he allowed Aragorn to fix his mind on death -

"You are father and brother and friend to me, Aragorn," he murmured, keeping his head lowered. "Please do not speak so calmly of your death. Do not talk as though once your kingdom is in order you can go." He raised a tightly controlled face to the king, his eyes dark and desolate. "I will not lose you. I will not let you go."

Aragorn knew the cost of those emotionally charged words from the reserved man before him and he valued them all the more for it. He squeezed Faramir's arm and dropped his hand back to the coverlet, feeling the last bit of his strength fading. "I will not go easily, I promise you that. But-" He faltered as pain flared dully across his belly and the room shimmered before him. "But I am in a bad way, Faramir, and you know it. Should anything happen, we must protect Gondor, above all else." He gazed up at him, the love in his eyes plain to see although the room was lit only by the small candle and the dancing flames of the fire. "If you love me, Faramir, if you love Gondor, write the declaration and I promise you I will do my best to live."

Faramir looked into the fire, his mouth pressed into a thin line and weighed the king's words. Outside the rain had eased and the silence sounded strange after so many days of heavy drops drumming against the windows and roof. At last Faramir gave a nod of acquiescence and turned back to the parchment. Taking up the quill he completed the sentence and looked up at Aragorn. "Anything else?"

Aragorn gave him a weak smile. "Add 'It is my will and decree that the rule of Gondor shall rest with the House of Stewards, passing from father to son from such time thenceforth.'" Faramir wrote the words with a resolute expression, as if the act itself was a difficult trial. When he finished he dated the document and handed it over, along with the quill. He had to steady the king's hand as Aragorn scrawled his name at the bottom, and was slightly appalled at the shakiness of the handwriting. Aragorn lay back in the bed, feeling like a great worry had been lifted, and he stopped fighting; stopped fighting the dizziness, stopped fighting to hold off the pain that had begun to gnaw mercilessly at him; instead he gave himself up to it and let it flow over him. It blotted out everything else and carried him to the edges of consciousness but refused to let him slip across and he heard himself moan quietly. As though in a dream he felt Faramir raise his head again and hold the cup to his lips.

"Drink this, it will help the pain and let you sleep." Faramir's voice was soft and encouraging and Aragorn thankfully swallowed the faintly sweet liquid that was trickled into his mouth. He lay back, riding the crest of the pain until the medicine began to blur his thoughts and sensations.

"Aragorn." Dimly he heard Faramir's voice and he roused himself enough to respond.

"Hmm?"

"You must fight. You made a promise to me. You may sleep now but you must awaken in the morning." Aragorn smiled to himself, hearing the steely voice of a Ranger captain giving orders.

"Yes sir," he answered, sinking effortlessly into the empty black space that hovered around him. "I will, Captain."

TO BE CONTINUED

* * *

NOTE: Scutellaria is the Latin name for skullcap – a plant-based sedative used by Native Americans. I just liked the sound of the name.

Again – Thanks for Raksha for the beta, and I THINK she and Clarion were the first to use the nickname "Bron" for Elboron.


	3. Eomer Then Eowyn

**Eomer, Then ****Eowyn**

* * *

"Faramir." A soft voice in his ear startled him awake and Faramir blinked and looked up to find Eowyn wrapped in a wooly robe and leaning over him. Sitting up in the chair he rubbed his hand across his face blearily and cleared his throat.

"I'm awake, what is it?"

She smiled. "Nothing, my love. It's early yet, barely dawn. I thought I would relieve you. Go lie down and I'll stay a while." She pushed the hair from his eyes with her fingers. "You cannot rest sleeping in a chair."

Faramir stretched a little and looked down at the king. Aragorn was sleeping peacefully, the faintest flush of color in his cheeks. Wordlessly he stood up and kissed Eowyn before heading for the door. He stopped after a few steps and turned back. "Wake him at sunrise."

"What?" She gave him a strange look as she arranged herself in the chair.

"Just for a minute, and make him talk."

"Why?"

"Because he was - last night we - he said -" He yawned enormously and shook his head in frustration, annoyed that his sleepiness left him unable to communicate his thoughts and his jaw suddenly tightened. "Please, just do it, Eowyn." He stumbled out of the room.

Eowyn's eyes grew large. He must be exhausted; both his grogginess and what was for him quite a flash of temper were not normal behavior for her husband. She wondered if he'd gotten any sleep at all last night and was doubly glad she had decided to come relieve him rather than go back to sleep herself. Seeing a piece of parchment lying on the table near the window she reached over and picked it up, quickly scanning down the page. When she had finished she glanced over at the bed, imagining the scene when the paper had been written and marveling at Aragorn's ability to have his wishes fulfilled even when lying weak and injured in bed. She knew Faramir would never refuse Aragorn anything outright, but she would have liked to hear the discussion that went on before they were through! Shaking her head she placed the parchment back on the table and settled into the chair.

When the first soft golden rays of sunshine filtered through the window Eowyn felt her heart leap for joy. A sunny day! Already she felt more encouraged and hopeful. Watching the warm light crawl across the floor she remembered Faramir's words and looked at Aragorn thoughtfully. She detested the idea of waking him when he seemed so peaceful, but Faramir had been adamant and who knew what they had talked about during the night. And he had said she need only wake him for a moment and then he could go back to sleep. She took his hand, noting happily that it was warm between hers.

"Aragorn…" she said softly, stroking her fingers across the back of his hand. "Aragorn, wake up."

She saw the dark eyebrows twitch slightly and then the king's eyelids slid open and sleepy grey eyes peered up at her.

"Wake up," she repeated. "It is dawn, and Faramir bid me awaken you."

Aragorn gave her a faint smile, his eyes half closed. "Tell the Captain I am awake, as ordered, and fighting." His eyes slipped shut and he faded back to sleep, leaving Eowyn completely mystified but reassured that she had done her job. She replaced his hand on the coverlet and sat back in the chair, crossing her hands across her belly as the child within twisted and pushed.

"Ooof," She gave a quiet groan. "Not much longer, little one, you are getting enormous." She patted her stomach. It had not been a hard pregnancy, but exceedingly tiring, and she would be relieved when she was finally delivered of this baby and her body was her own again.

The sun rose above the horizon and poured in through the window and she turned her chair slightly to bask in its warmth, her hands splayed across her stomach as she closed her eyes in delight at the feeling.

When Eomer came through the door an hour later he found his sister drowsing in the sun and the King of Gondor lying in bed watching her with a tight, distracted expression on his face. Aragorn made a small gesture to Eomer not to disturb her but she had heard his heavy tread on the floor and opened her eyes.

"My lord!" She looked at Aragorn with dismay. "Why didn't you tell me you were awake?"

"It has only been for a short time," he said quietly. Eowyn looked at him sharply.

"Are you in pain?" She suspected the dose of scutellaria Faramir appeared to have given him last night was wearing off.

Aragorn only gave her a tense one-sided smile, his breathing short and shallow. Eowyn rose and went to the nearby table where she had ingredients for another draught of the sedative waiting. As she prepared it she glared at Eomer, especially his feet. "And you! Why must you stomp around like a horse in summer, chasing flies?"

Eomer only shrugged; he had grown up with her and did not fear her temper one bit. He looked alarmed at Aragorn's suddenly white face, however, and watched with concern as Eowyn offered her medicine to him. "This will help, give it a few minutes." He drank it and then lay still as she fussed with the coverlet. She looked over at Eomer and narrowed her eyes. "Since you are awake, brother, and have made sure the rest of us are too, you can stay here and I will go get dressed and have something to eat." She pulled a clean gown from her closet and then started across the room.

"I am no nursemaid!" Eomer exclaimed. When he saw she was serious and heading for the door, he followed her. "I am in earnest, Eowyn," he said with a worried look, his voice kept low so that Aragorn would not hear. "I cannot stay here with him. What if something happens?"

She stopped at the doorway and turned back, stopping him from following her by pressing a hand against his chest. "Nothing will happen. Just sit with him until I get back. It will only be a few minutes." Seeing his uncertain look she groaned in exasperation. "Get in there." She pushed him gently back into the room before heading down the hall.

Eomer reluctantly retreated back to the bedside and collapsed into the chair. "She's bossy enough when she's not with child," he muttered. He glanced up, hoping Aragorn had not heard him, but although his eyes were still closed and his mouth was tight, it was crooked up at one corner. Heaving out a sigh Eomer looked around the room and saw the parchment Eowyn had placed back on the table. He picked it up and shot a look at Aragorn, who, hearing the rustle, opened his eyes and then raised one eyebrow in consent. Reading down through it Eomer's face grew thoughtful. When he looked up he made no comment, merely returned it to the table behind him and leaned back in the chair, rubbing his chin. "A wise precaution," he finally said, his eyes meeting Aragorn's. "Although I imagine it took some persuasion to get Faramir to actually write it down."

Aragorn gave him a weak nod. "More than you know."

Eomer snorted. "Believe me, I cannot say I know him well, even if he has been married to my sister all these years, but I do know how hard-headed he is." Eomer softened his voice. "I know he loves you, Aragorn, and it cannot have been easy for him to hear you speak of your death, especially when you are – well, I mean - when you nearly -" he floundered, his face reddening.

Aragorn paid him little heed, finally relaxing a little as he felt the pain begin to ease up and only mildly concerned that room had also begun to spin a little. He fixed a fuzzily thoughtful eye on Eomer. "I am certain I owe you my life," he said. "Thank you."

"Uh, you're welcome." Eomer shrugged, suddenly uncomfortable with the conversation. He did not want Aragorn thinking about that night or he might start asking about the others and Eomer wanted to keep the news of the three other men's deaths from him as long as possible. He tried to change the talk to other things.

"Can I give some advice, Aragorn?" He spoke hesitantly, knowing it seemed ridiculous for someone of his age and experience to be offering guidance to Gondor's king. Receiving only a slight grunt as an answer he continued. "As soon as you are better, get your lady wife with child, put some babies in the Citadel of Minas Tirith and you will not have to harass your Steward in the middle of the night." His voice was serious, even if there was the slight lilt of humor beneath it.

"Good counsel," murmured Aragorn hesitantly. "There are…it is not… we need…and time..." He seemed to realize his words were not making sense and gave up, frowning slightly as he struggled to keep his eyes open and on Eomer.

"Hah!" The King of Rohan gave derisive snort. "If you are waiting for the right time, it will not come. It is never a good time, haven't you watched Eowyn and Faramir with all of theirs?" He stretched out in the chair, lacing his hands behind his head. "Lothiriel and I have nearly given up trying to have a private talk, or a quiet meal. But," he suddenly sat up in the chair and looked Aragorn in the eye. "It is your duty to provide for Gondor, Aragorn, and part of that duty is to breed an heir." His face suddenly softened as he continued. "And, in truth, children bring richness to your life, an unexpected richness."

Aragorn made a small sound of agreement. It was taking too much energy to keep up with the conversation and he felt himself drifting again, felt the throbbing ache beginning to dull back as his head and limbs began to feel heavy and unwieldy, and this time he did not fight but let the weight pull him down into oblivion. He dozed off just before Eowyn returned from the kitchen.

When she entered the bedchamber she glared at her brother. "You didn't keep talking when he was trying to rest, did you?"

He had jumped to his feet as soon as she walked through the door and now he was quickly moving to leave the room. "No, I did not," he said. "We only talked a little while." He gave her a threatening frown, which since she had seen it from babyhood, had no effect whatsoever.

"Oh, go and take the boys for a ride," she said, placing the bowl she had carried up from the kitchen on the bedside table as Eomer beat a quick retreat down the hall. When he had gone she sat down on the bed and softly called the king's name. "Aragorn."

His eyes cracked open. "Are you hungry? Can you eat a little bit?" He looked at her hazily and she offered him a sympathetic smile. "I know it's hard, but try." He finally gave her a drowsy nod and moved a little as if to sit up but Eowyn restrained him and merely slipped another pillow behind his head. "No, just lie still. It is only some broth."

She filled the spoon and slipped it into his mouth. The broth was hot and rich and salty with tiny bits of meat in it and it tasted better than any meal he had ever had in his life. " 'S good," he mumbled and she gave a low laugh of pleasure. "It's only beef broth, my lord!" Her expression became serious. "It tastes good because your body needs the salt and the meat, to help build up more blood. Eat as much as you want."

He ate several spoonfuls, even half asleep, until it became impossible for him to keep his eyes open. Eowyn rearranged the pillows again and pulled the blanket up closer around him. He was sound asleep even before she finished, his dark hair spilling across the pillow as the sunshine warmed the room and gave it a golden glow. Pulling clean strips of cloth from a basket of supplies she had brought up that first night, she made a careful inspection of each of his wounds and put on fresh bandages. There were still large blotches of blood on them, and the deepest wound had again soaked through the dressing in a few places, but the gruesome injuries from two nights ago seemed to be clean and beginning to heal and Eowyn gave an inward sigh of relief.

Taking the bowl she walked down the hall toward the stairs, stopping a moment to peek into the guest room where Faramir had crawled into bed. He was also sleeping, but had barely made it to the bed, lying stretched across diagonally rather than straight, clutching a pillow close to him. She crept in and pulled a blanket over him crossways, trying to cover him as much as possible. He muttered slightly before rolling over and falling silent, and she reached out and gave him a gentle caress, resolving that he would sleep his fill today.

Returning to the kitchen she discovered Eomer had taken her at her word and gathered up the boys for a horseback ride. She found them eating breakfast and waiting excitedly as the cook finished packing lunches, all of them talking at once.

"Uncle says for me to bring my bow," Elboron's green eyes were glowing with excitement. "He says if we see any wargs I can kill one."

Eowyn's eyes flew to her brother in alarm and annoyance. "Oh, really?"

Eomer shook his head slightly at her and gave her a look that said she was worried for nothing. "We aren't going near the quarry, don't worry. I doubt if we see anything, but just in case, I'm taking my guards," he reassured her.

"Mother!" Barahir tugged at her skirt. "I don't have to ride the pony, do I? Can't you make Elboron let me ride with him?"

"I get to ride with Uncle." Sam's smug face looked up at her. "He says everyone else must ride themselves." He gave Barahir a look of triumph.

"Now, now." Eowyn sometimes felt overwhelmed when they all wanted her attention at once. She looked down at Sam. "It is nice that you get to ride with your uncle, but do not be so hateful about it or you can stay home." Sam's face fell as her gaze switched to Barahir. "No, I will not make Elboron carry you, you are old enough to ride yourself, and what is wrong with the pony?"

"He's mean." Barahir's brows wrinkled in a frown. "He bites me."

"He bites because when he does then you cry and leave him alone," said Theoden mildly as he pulled a slim leather belt around his waist, checking the small dagger than hung from it. "Make him mind you a few times and he'll stop biting. Right, Eomund?"

Eomund looked up from tucking his breeches into his boots. "Yes, he bit me a lot when I first started riding him." He shrugged. "He's not really bad tempered, just stubborn." He turned to his little brother. "Ride beside me, Barahir, and I'll show you how to discipline him."

The cook appeared and with a gesture of triumph handed a pair of bulging bundles to Eomer. "Enough there to feed an army, my lord."

The King of Rohan looked around him and raised an eyebrow at her. "That's what is here, haven't you noticed?" He ordered the boys to bid their mother goodbye and herded them out the door, then turned back to his sister. "I'll keep them busy for the day, you get some rest, and keep watch over Aragorn." He leaned over and kissed her cheek. "And don't let Faramir go to Minas Tirith without me. We'll be back in the afternoon." He headed toward the stables with the boys on his heels, each one clamoring for his attention.

Eowyn watched them go and felt a great swell of love for her brother and his concern for her family. After they were out of sight she wandered out to the sitting room and then onto the veranda. The sun was already beginning to dry up the numerous puddles in the lawn and garden, although she could still hear the rush of the high water in the stream nearby. Eowyn looked up as the house matron came out of the house.

"A sunny day at last, my lady." The woman smiled in approval.

"Ah, Nan, it is lovely, isn't it?" Eowyn grinned back and stretched her arms toward the sky, feeling the warmth. A sudden strong kick inside her made her jump and rub her stomach tenderly. "This one is just about ready, I think."

Nan gave her a worried look. "You need to take care, my lady, and rest. You've been on your feet far too much these last few days, and you've not been sleeping like you should."

Eowyn sighed. "It cannot be helped." She looked around and went to settle down in one of the chairs nearby. "I'll sit here and enjoy the sunshine for a moment, Nan. Can you find someone to stay with the king, in case he should awaken and need something?"

Nan gave a vigorous nod. "Of course." She patted Eowyn's shoulder. "Just relax and enjoy yourself." She swept off into the house.

* * *

Eowyn did sit and rest for a while, but her naturally restless nature had her up and moving long before Nan thought was appropriate. She had taken care of the household duties, gone through the baby clothes thoroughly one last time and even taken a short nap, at Nan's insistence, before noon. At lunchtime she ate her own meal quickly, finding everything tasted marvelous, before taking a tray and heading upstairs to relieve the older laundress who had been entrusted to keep watch over Aragorn.

The woman bobbed to her feet instantly when Eowyn pushed the door open. "Milady."

Eowyn greeted her as she put the tray on the table. "Hello, Lareth." She looked down at the king. "How is he?"

"He's slept the whole time, milady." The woman's brown eyes crinkled at the corners as she smiled warmly down at Aragorn.

"Good." Eowyn thanked her before sending her on her way and sitting down to gently wake Aragorn. "Aragorn, wake up. Time to eat something."

The king's eyes opened slowly and he looked at Eowyn with surprise. "Didn't I do that already?"

She chuckled. "That was hours ago, my lord." She gestured toward the tray on the table. "This time I have not only some broth, but some stewed apples as well." She had had the cook ransack the pantry for the last of the apples, remembering the king's fondness for the sweet dish.

Aragorn gave her a weak smile and looked at the tray. "I'm not really hungry," he said apologetically. Eowyn smiled in understanding.

"I suppose not," she said. "But you must eat, it will help you feel better in the end." She saw his eyes stray and glance out the window at the sunny day and she reached out and took his hand. "You will feel better, Aragorn, I promise. It will just take some time." She gave him a gentle pat on the arm and he sighed. Eowyn started stacking the pillows behind him to make a backrest, talking but without looking at him. She had found this to be a highly successful tactic with Faramir.

"You have been spoiled, Aragorn." She could see the curious look on his face but made no comment. "You have had long years without illness or injury, when so many others have not." She helped him slide up the mattress, mere inches, to lean against the pillows. Seeing the cold sweat break out on his forehead she waited a moment, letting him adjust to the new position and made a quick inspection of the bandage over the deep cut. It was slightly bloodied but not alarmingly so. "All right?" she asked, hearing his breath coming in short gasps. He gave a short nod, closing his eyes a moment and swallowing hard. When his breathing had steadied he opened his eyes and she took the bowl and dipped the spoon, holding it before him. He looked at her, slightly uncomfortable, only dimly remembering earlier when she had fed him the broth.

"I can feed myself, Eowyn."

Eowyn looked dubious but dutifully returned the spoon to the bowl and placed it on the coverlet before him.

Aragorn reached for the spoon only to find his hand trembling and unwilling to do what he told it to. It took three tries to get his fingers to wrap around the handle, and when he tried lifting it from the bowl it shook so badly the liquid it held spilled out onto the bedclothes. He found his head beginning to ache from the tension of concentrating and finally let the spoon fall back into the bowl and collapsed against the pillows, panting from the effort.

Eowyn gave him a gentle smile of commiseration as she picked up the bowl and returned it to the tray. "It's harder than it looks, when you are unwell, isn't it?" She saw him catch his lower lip between his teeth to stifle a groan and gave him a minute to compose himself before she continued. "You are going to have to rest and take things easy, and it will be hard for you."

He looked thoughtful; keeping his eyes fixed on the coverlet as she blotted up the spilled broth, straightened the blankets and then laid the tray across his lap. Eowyn waited until he raised his eyes to meet hers, but she was caught off guard by the dark shadow of despondency she saw in them when he did. He quickly looked away, but she recognized what she had seen there and swiftly took both of his hands in hers. "My lord, do not be afraid. You WILL get well. This is just a difficult time, right now."

"I hate to feel so – weak and helpless," he said with a self-deprecating twist of his mouth, still looking away from her. "So – " He stopped, embarrassed at the catch in his voice.

"So useless?" Eowyn squeezed his hands encouragingly. He made no answer, merely nodded. She smiled knowingly. "Ahh, Aragorn, don't you think I know what it is to lie abed, drained, exhausted, unable to care for myself?"

"Depending on others," he said in a low voice.

Eowyn kept silent and released his hands to rest on the bed, reaching down to fill the spoon and offer it to him. He opened his mouth and ate, his eyes watching her like those of the deer she saw sometimes in the garden, watchful, guarded. She continued spooning the broth into him, alternating with occasional bits of apple.

"You don't like that, depending on others, do you?" she said after a while.

He let his head and shoulders relax and leaned back against the pillows behind him. "It's difficult," he said slowly. "It does not come easily to me." He shook his head at her proffered spoon and lay still as if to rest from the double exertions of talking and eating. It was well past noon and the sun no longer poured in the window, although he could see how bright it was outside.

Eowyn was thoughtful for a moment and had to admit Aragorn was one of the most self-contained people she had ever known. It was such a part of his character that she had never questioned it, never stopped to think about the way he was always the one others turned to for help, not the other way around. She knew he wholly trusted and confided only in Arwen and a small circle of friends; Faramir and herself, Eomer, his foster brothers the Elvish twins, perhaps a few others, but even that seemed to be mostly in affairs of state and government; rarely personal matters. To be now at the mercy at his own physical limitations was something quite unfamiliar for him. She sat back a little and rubbed the small of her back, thinking.

"Well, surely you've been taken care of some time in life," she said, pursing her lips as she looked at him with an appraising glance. "When you were a child, perhaps?"

He seemed to consider her words a moment and his eyes grew distant and she saw the corners of his mouth turn up. "I suppose so. My mother cared for me…" His voice faded as he was caught up in some long ago memory.

Eowyn saw his face soften and felt the tiniest pang of jealousy. She, like Faramir, had only vague and hazy memories of her own mother, many of them tinged with sadness. "If you have happy memories of your mother, my lord, I envy you."

"She would lie down at night with me, when I was very small." Aragorn let his eyes slip closed so he could see the past better. "And she would sing." He whispered a few words of a song in Elvish**_ "Tiro, El eria e mor, U estel."_** (Look, a star rises out of the darkness, there is hope) When he opened his eyes he looked uncomfortable. "That was what I was called then, long ago in Rivendell, Estel. It means hope." He was silent for a moment, lost in the past.

"I know." Eowyn, seeing the soft glow in his eyes, could not begrudge him his memories and she smiled. "There, you see, you have been taken care of before, and it was not so terrible, Estel." She said the name teasingly, seeking to break the melancholy that threatened to come over him and she succeeded. Aragorn gave a little laugh and nodded.

"You are right. It was rather nice, actually." This time he opened his mouth when she offered a spoonful of apples and soon he had finished both them and the broth. Eowyn returned the tray to the bedside table and rearranged the pillows for him to lie down again, then straightened the coverlet around his shoulders. As she stood up to go Aragorn caught her hand in his. She stopped and looked at him expectantly.

"Thank you," he said softly. She gave him a smile and squeezed his hand. "Be patient, Estel, there is always hope. Let us take care of you, at least for a while." With another gentle squeeze she turned away and busied herself about the room, building up the fire and straightening the pitcher and cups on the table before she picked up the tray and started for the door. "I'll be back in a moment, try to-" her words faded when she saw Aragorn was already asleep again. She quietly left the room, leaving the door partly open.

Further down the hall she looked in on Faramir. The afternoon sun had warmed the room a great deal and he lay on the bed wrapped in the blanket she had covered him with earlier, his face flushed and his dark hair damp with sweat. Eowyn left the tray in the hall and tiptoed in, trying to pull the blanket off, but he had rolled over in his sleep and it was now twisted around him. After two or three gentle tugs she gave up and turned back to the door.

"What time is it?" Faramir's muffled voice came from the pillow.

Eowyn turned back and sat on the edge of the bed. Pulling the blanket away from his face she leaned down to kiss his sweaty cheek. "It's after noon. Do you want some lunch?"

"You should not have let me sleep so long." He sat up and yawned and stretched before memory rushed back and he snapped around to look at her. "How is he?"

"He's doing well," she said. "And I let you sleep because you were so tired." She took her hand and smoothed back the hair that had stuck to his forehead. "He's been awake a little, and has eaten. When I woke him at sunrise he said to tell 'the Captain' that he was fighting." Eowyn wrinkled her forehead at her husband. "I guess that means something to you?" Faramir looked thoughtful and then gave a little private grin but said nothing and Eowyn made a sound of disappointment. "Fine, you don't have to tell me." She stood up as he did the same, rolling his head to work the kinks out of his neck.

"Just a promise he made me last night," said Faramir. "I'll tell you about it on the way to the kitchen."

On their way down the stairs Eowyn called for Nan and sent her to stay with Aragorn so that she could sit and talk to Faramir as he ate. He told her of the previous night's events and she brought him up to date on the morning's happenings. Faramir looked at her over the edge of his cup, his eyes searching her face.

"Do you truly think he is going to be all right?" he asked her. Eowyn took a deep breath.

"I believe so." She glanced away for a moment, then looked back. "I have no experience with this kind of serious injury, and I will rest easier when you have sent a healer back from the city, or he is in the Houses of Healing. But, so far as I can see, the bleeding has slowed, nearly stopped, the wounds are not infected, he's eating," she shrugged. "It appears to me that he is mending."

Faramir let his eyes close a moment and covered them with his hand, then rubbed his temples with his fingers as his shoulders slumped with relief. Eowyn reached across the table and pulled his hand away from his face. Neither of them spoke as she laid her hand across his cheek but they each could read the relief in the other's eyes.

"I have to get to Minas Tirith." Faramir drank the last of his tea and stood up. "Surely the water has receded enough today."

"Eomer said wait for him," said Eowyn. "They should be back soon."

Faramir nodded. "I'll go get changed and pack my things again," he said. "Hopefully we can get there this time."

* * *

By the time Faramir was packed the riding party had returned, tired and grimy. Eowyn heard the thudding of hooves and she and Faramir went out to the back of the house to meet them, calling out greetings as the boys each tumbled from their horses and began to talk. Eowyn lowered herself to sit on a mounting block as she tried to listen to all five excited voices simultaneously.

Elboron had failed to find any wargs but he did present his mother with a brace of conies and grinned happily when she said to turn them over to the cook with instructions to prepare them for supper. Barahir showed her the set of pony teeth marks on the calf of his leg, and then demonstrated the whipping skills learned from Eomund with a small green branch. Eowyn noted that the pony did seem noticeably more docile that usual, standing before the stables with his head down. He had only fallen off once, Barahir informed her happily. Sam was passed down from before Eomer's saddle, sound asleep, and only woke long enough to cuddle up into his father's arms, Faramir absently stroking his cheek against the boy's soft blond hair as he listened to the others.

Eomund triumphantly pulled a small red and black striped snake from a small pouch on his saddle, explaining to his mother how lucky he had been to catch it, as Eowyn made her best effort not to recoil and even stroked the creature a bit. Theoden, always the quiet one, waited until his brothers had subsided before he came forward to show his parents his treasure. His grey eyes bright with anticipation, he slowly opened his fist to display a small white carving, a miniature horse no bigger than a walnut.

"Theo!" Eowyn bent over to examine the tiny figure more closely. "Where did you find such a lovely thing?"

"There was a mudslide, and it uncovered a house." He looked at his mother and she could see his excitement.

"It looks like an ancient sod hut," said Eomer, swinging down from his horse. "You would never have known it was there, I imagine you have ridden past it a hundred times, Faramir. We looked around, but found nothing else."

"I found the snake!" Eomund reminded his uncle, who smiled in agreement. "Yes, I forgot. Yes, you did."

Faramir squatted down beside Theoden, shifting Sam onto his shoulder and rubbed his fingers gently over the little horse. "It must be very old, Theo. It appears to be carved from the same white stone as Minas Tirith. Some special token perhaps, or a child's toy." His own grey eyes met his son's and Eowyn smiled at how much they were alike.

"Can we go back and look around some more, Father?" Theoden looked at his father questioningly. "You would like it, too."

"There's nothing there," said Eomer with an exasperated look. "Just broken crockery and bits of wood." He saw a look pass between Theoden and Faramir that spoke volumes about their interest in such things and rolled his eyes.

"Yes, we'll go back," said Faramir. "But not for a while yet, I must go to the city." He stood up and glanced at Eomer. "Has the water gone down enough? Can we get to Minas Tirith?"

Eomer nodded. "I believe so."

Faramir handed Sam to Elboron with instructions to put him to bed for a nap and then join his father at the White Company's barracks. As he started off to the stables to have his horse saddled he called his sons to him and could be heard giving instructions as to their behavior and his expectations in his absence. Eowyn watched him go with a smile and her happiness brought a smile of his own to her brother's face. "He's a good father," said Eomer, suddenly missing his own children. Eowyn leaned against him and sighed.

"Yes." She rubbed a sore spot across her stomach and Eomer frowned as he looked at her belly.

"Although he seems intent on producing his own company of sons."

His sister laughed. "I have some say in that too, you know, and we wanted every one of them. Anyway," she addressed her stomach now. "This one is a girl, aren't you?" Eomer shook his head at her.

"You said that the last three times, Eowyn." He laughed at her warning glare and shrugged his shoulders, then turned to follow Faramir and the boys to the stables.

* * *

"Aragorn." Aragorn drowsily opened his eyes to find Faramir standing beside the bed.

"Eomer and I are leaving for the city," said Faramir. "The sun has shone all day, the water should be down enough that we can get through." He moved to seat himself on the bed and looked at the king. "I will send the Queen to you, and a healer from the city."

Aragorn nodded and his eyes strayed to the table where the parchment Faramir had written out last night had been lying.

"I have it." Faramir knew what he was looking for. "I will have it filed in the Hall of Records upon my arrival."

Aragorn nodded with satisfaction and reached out his hand. Instantly Faramir took it and held it between his.

"I leave Gondor in your capable hands, my lord Steward." Faramir gave him a piercing look, trying to decide if Aragorn was purposely repeating the words he had used when he had awakened yesterday, but after close scrutiny decided he was not, and Faramir wondered for a minute just how much of that conversation Aragorn remembered. He bowed his head slightly.

"Yes, my lord," he said. "I will await your return to the city." Impulsively he bent and kissed Aragorn's hand. Aragorn slid his other hand up to clasp the back of Faramir's neck and rubbed gently, then placed it on the dark head like a benediction.

"You have my love, Faramir, my trust and my thanks," he said in a quiet voice. Faramir raised his head and their eyes met. "I will see you in Minas Tirith soon," Aragorn said, dropping his hands back to the bed as Faramir stood up.

Faramir waited outside the bedroom as Eomer said his goodbyes to Aragorn and soon the two of them were riding away, accompanied by Eomer's guards and members of Faramir's own White Company, as well as Elboron, who had been given permission to ride as far as Osgiliath with them. Eowyn waved goodbye from the veranda along with the younger boys, each of them seething with jealousy over Elboron's good fortune at being the eldest.

"It's not fair." Eomund's dark brows were one solid line above his eyes they were pulled down so tightly. "Elboron gets to do everything."

Eowyn laughed as she ushered them all into the house. "He's the oldest, your turn will come. Now, since you all were permitted to skip lessons this morning to go riding with your uncle, you may all spend a couple of hours before dinner working on your schoolwork." She was unswayed by the chorus of groans that rose up around her. "Go get your books, you may study in the sitting room. Quietly! Sam is sleeping!" The pounding of their feet eased slightly on the stairs.

Eowyn followed them up the stairs and entered her bedchamber. Aragorn was awake, watching the fire in the grate and looking thoughtful.

"How are you feeling, my lord?" She approached the bed and he gave her a smile, slightly weary, but sincere.

"Tired…dizzy… sore," he said.

"All normal, considering," she said. She prepared another cupful of healing herbs, slightly lessening the amount of the sedative she had been using. After she had given it to him, she stood by the bed, looking thoughtful. "Do you feel like reading? No…" She immediately rejected the idea as too demanding for both his strength and his alertness. "Or perhaps you would like someone to read aloud? I myself am not very talented at it, but Theoden is an excellent reader, he puts so much feeling into it."

Aragorn nodded, his face lighting up with interest. She asked if he had any special request and when he told her what he wanted she assured him a copy was in Faramir's library and disappeared down the hall. In a few minutes there was a hesitant knock at the door and Theoden entered, nervously clutching a book to him.

"Mother says I'm to read to you," he said from the doorway. Aragorn motioned him in with a slight tilt of his head. The boy crossed the room and carefully sat down in the chair beside the bed. His grey eyes flicked over to Aragorn and then back to the book. "This is one of my favorite stories," he said.

"Mine, too." Aragorn smiled, feeling pleasantly drowsy and comfortable.

Theoden gave him a smile back, the exact same slow, shy smile the king had seen on his Steward in unguarded moments, and began.

**_"The leaves were long, the grass was green,_**

******_The hemlock-umbels tall and fair,_**

**_And in the glade a light was seen_**

**_Of stars in shadow shimmering_**

**_Tinuviel_****_ was dancing there_**

**_To music of a pipe unseen,_**

**_And light of stars was in her hair,_**

**_And in her raiment glimmering._**

* * *

**__**

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TO BE CONTINUED

* * *

**_Notes:_**

**_Tiro_****_, El eria e mor, U estel (Look a star rises out of the darkness, there is hope)_**. (This is a completely invented song, made up of bits of songs on a lovely website with music and words in Elvish and English from songs used in the movies, called www.arwen-undomniel.com.)

Of course, the story Theoden is reading to Aragorn is the beginning of the song of Luthien, the elf maiden who loved a mortal, Beren. Aragorn sings it to the hobbits in the Fellowship of the Ring (the entire song in the book and a tiny part of it in the extended edition of the movie). In the appendix of the Lord of the Rings, it says that when Aragorn first met Arwen he was singing this song and thought for a moment she was Luthien come to life before his eyes, and that he loved her from that hour. It seemed to me that would be something he would find comforting when he was injured.

Again - Thanks to Raksha for excellent beta'ing and suggestions, and for long e-mailed discussions on the self-sufficiency of Aragorn!


	4. Arwen

**NOTE:** Thanks to all the many reviewers – especially evenstar elanor, lindahoyland and tychen() – you guys are very encouraging! Tychen()! You keep making suggestions that are so great I want to write ANOTHER version! E-mail me and we'll write one together some time!

* * *

**Arwen**

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"Mother! They're coming!!!" Eomund's excited voice rose up the stairs and reached Eowyn where she sat at Aragorn's bedside and she rolled her eyes in annoyance. She had specifically said NOT to shout and awaken the king, but apparently her admonitions had been forgotten in the thrill of the arrival of the queen and her attendants. Glancing over at the bed, however, she saw that it had made little difference; there were no grey eyes suddenly opening and questioning her and the soft breathing of the sleeping man did not change. Aragorn had taken a cup of her medicine only a short while ago and was deeply asleep. Eowyn stood up with a quiet groan, pressing her hands against her back, and went down the stairs to greet her queen.

Eowyn had been expecting Arwen all day once Elboron and his guards from the White Company had returned yesterday evening and informed her that while the water was still high, it had receded from the bridge in Osgiliath and Faramir and the rest of his party had crossed safely. She had been distressed to hear Elboron's descriptions of the flood damage that they had passed and that had been visible on the Pelennor from Osgiliath, and she knew Faramir would be kept busy for quite a while. A part of her was slightly resentful, wanting him here with her now, but she knew his duties and refused to give in to the feeling. He had missed Barahir's birth, since the baby had come early while he was in the city, and she had managed. She could do so again.

When she reached the veranda she joined Nan and the boys and they watched the line of riders begin to make their way across the meadow below the house. Thankfully there had been another day of sunny skies and brisk breezes and Eowyn had been sure that Arwen would not have to delay in starting out for Ithilien. Still, an extended stay called for great deal of planning and packing, and Eowyn had not looked for her to arrive until afternoon at the earliest. It was now late in the day and the boys had been restlessly checking the treeline that edged the lower meadow every few minutes since shortly after lunch. Finally a small group of riders and pack horses were carefully picking their way up the muddy slope leading to the house. They would be there in a few moments and Eowyn could see her sons wriggling with excitement.

At last the company from Minas Tirith swept into the courtyard but when Eowyn went to bow slightly to the queen, Arwen jumped down from her horse and rushed up the veranda steps, catching her hand to draw her back up, her blue eyes desperately searching Eowyn's.

"How is he?" She spoke with uncharacteristic abruptness and her eyes traveled across Eowyn's face looking for a clue to Aragorn's condition. "Faramir said he was doing well?"

"He is doing well, my lady." Eowyn gave her a reassuring smile and clasped her hands around Arwen's. "As well as you could expect, considering. Come." She led the queen into the house and up the stairs, leaving Nan to get the rest of the queen's party settled and see to the boy's behavior.

When they entered the bedchamber Eowyn heard Arwen's gasp as she took in Aragorn's pale face and saw the bandages covering his chest and shoulder. Quickly moving across the room she immediately was beside him on the bed and leaned over to wrap her arms gently around him. "Aragorn." She spoke his name softly, her mouth close to his ear.

Aragorn made a mighty effort to rouse himself, but he did not need his eyes open or to be completely awake to know who was beside him. "Arwen!" His relieved cry sounded as though it was torn from deep inside and he let his head rest against her neck where she held him close. Reaching up he grasped her to him, drinking in her scent, the feel of her hand against his face, the soft touch of her lips on his and let himself melt against her, realizing that he had resisted leaving her more than anything else. He had spoken to Faramir of the love of Gondor and he had meant it, but deep in his heart he knew that the love of Arwen Evenstar had been what he despaired most of losing. In seconds he was asleep again, his head cradled in her arms.

Arwen pulled away slowly, tenderly kissing his face as she eased him down onto the pillow and looked at Eowyn, who was standing beside her. "Show me," she said quietly. Mellanar, the healer who had accompanied Arwen from the city, had also followed the women up the stairs and now he too moved closer to see the injuries as Eowyn pulled down the blankets to reveal the heavily bandaged wounds.

Mellanar sat down at once beside Arwen. Pulling back the bandages he began to examine the gashes, his hands probing and touching gently, his eyes intently taking in Eowyn's stitching and the condition of the injuries. "You sewed these closed?" he asked without looking up and Eowyn answered him faintly.

"Yes, I thought it best." She watched his face, apprehension plain on her own. "The ones on his shoulder and chest stopped bleeding fairly easily." Mellanar's hand moved down to expose the two stomach wounds further down and a crease of worry appeared on his forehead. "Those were harder," said Eowyn. "But they eventually stopped, too." She glanced at Arwen as if in warning as the healer uncovered the deep groin injury. "This was the one that wouldn't stop bleeding." Arwen's face paled and she reached over and took Aragorn's hand. Mellanar clenched his jaw as he scrutinized the deep cut, and the blood on the bandage, knowing it was still seeping somewhere deep inside. Eowyn looked down at him uncertainly. "I kept putting pressure on it; I did not know what else to do. It finally slowed, but it has never stopped completely." Mellanar nodded to show he understood.

Eowyn saw Arwen's gaze fix on the king. "Oh, Aragorn," she said softly, but he did not awaken. She reached over and brushed her fingers through his dark hair gently and even asleep he turned his face slightly to meet her touch.

The healer finally looked up Eowyn, his face unreadable. "My lady, you are a near miracle worker." A small smile suddenly crossed his face, lighting it up with warmth for a moment. "This could have been fatal had you not stopped the bleeding." He moved his fingers gently along the deep laceration before replacing the bandage. "Many experienced healers would not have been able to tend this kind of injury." He looked at her with interest. "You merely kept pressure on it?"

Eowyn clasped her hands before her on her stomach and looked uncomfortable. "No, I –" She chewed her lip hesitantly, suddenly reluctant. Finally she sighed and met his gaze. "I used a small drop of camwort." She looked at Arwen and gave them both an uneasy smile as she waited for the healer's reaction. He gave her an admiring look.

"You used the Haradric medicine, my lady? Most would not have dared."

"I had to." She leaned forward and gazed into his face, her eyes large and serious. "If you could have seen the blood." She closed her eyes and shivered as she thought back. "It was everywhere, all over him, all over the bed. We couldn't get it to stop, it was soaking through the towels-" Her eyes opened and she suddenly stopped, realizing Arwen was listening intently. Eowyn did not want the queen to have that image in her mind. "I feared for his life," she said simply.

The healer gave her a grim look and shifted his gaze to the queen. "For good reason. I have seen men die from loss of blood too often." He looked back at Eowyn. "You did the right thing. I have tended this kind of injury; I know how much blood there was. Only by keeping him still could you hope to stop the bleeding." He replaced the bandage on the groin and pulled the blanket up to cover the king. "And once the cut has clotted staying as quiet as possible is the key to recovery."

Eowyn gave a sigh of relief, before looking at him rather sheepishly. "I have been very liberal with the scutellaria ever since the camwort wore off."

Mellanar nodded, looking pleased. "Another wise choice. I have a tincture that will help heal the artery, but it will still take several days before the bleeding stops completely, and the longer he is at rest, moving very little, the better it is." He looked at Arwen meaningfully. "Remind him of that when he awakens, my lady." She nodded, still holding Aragorn's hand and gently running her fingers through his hair.

The healer looked down at the king, then at each of the women. "There is little for me to do, here. You seem to have matters well in hand." He stood up and took Eowyn's hand. "You can be proud of yourself, Lady Eowyn. You truly saved the life of the king." He gave her a formal little bow.

Before Eowyn could recover from the shock of his words, Arwen suddenly stood up and embraced her. "Thank you," she said, her eyes glistening with tears. She hugged Eowyn again and kissed her. Eowyn hugged her back, reddening with embarrassment and feeling tears gather in her own eyes.

"I love him too, you know," she whispered in a husky voice. "I mean, not like you do, but –" She stepped back, clearing her throat to cover the sound of the nervous sob that escaped. "I – well." She rubbed her hands together, suddenly drained. With a sigh she let her shoulders droop a little. "I will leave you, then." She gave a slight bow and left the bedchamber.

Out in the hallways she allowed herself to lean against the wall a little and let the immense feeling of relief sweep over her. Relief that Aragorn was going to recover, relief that Arwen was now here to see to him, relief that with the arrival of the healer her own skills were no longer needed. She pressed a hand to her mouth to suppress a slightly hysterical giggle. The weight of responsibility lifted and she let it go with no regrets.

"My lady?" Eowyn looked up to see Nan approaching down the hallway. "Is everything all right?"

Eowyn looked at her and grinned. "Yes, Nan, everything is fine." She started toward the stairs. "I am going for a walk, through the gardens, to the stables, somewhere. If anyone needs– " Eowyn bit the sentence off halfway. "No, if anyone needs anything, you can see to it, I am NOT here!" She saw Nan smile in agreement and nod.

"Yes, my lady." She watched approvingly as Eowyn marched off to spend some time alone.

* * *

By the next day Eowyn's household had been overtaken by Arwen and Mellanar and she couldn't have been happier. In the afternoon, under the healer's careful supervision, Aragorn was moved from Eowyn and Faramir's bedchamber to the large guest room that Eomer had used, several members of the White Company being pressed into service as litter bearers, for Mellanar refused to allow Aragorn to even sit up in bed. As he was being settled, Eowyn's chambers were straightened and prepared for the soon coming baby. She protested that it was unnecessary, but Arwen had insisted she have her own rooms back, if the healer judged the king able to stand the short move. Mellanar had agreed, bestowing another of his transforming smiles on Eowyn.

"Lady Eowyn." He addressed her with the title but smiled down upon her like a father or favorite uncle. "A woman having a child needs to be in familiar surroundings, in her own rooms, with her own bed to rest in when her labor is finished." He held up his hands to silence her objections. "The king can handle being carried a few steps down a hallway." And indeed except for a slightly paler face and the way Aragorn grasped Arwen's hand when he was placed in the bed, it appeared that the short trip had little effect on him.

When Mellanar was assured that Aragorn was comfortable and he and Eowyn had gone, Arwen sank down onto the bed beside her husband, still holding his hand as he smiled tiredly up at her. He had awoken that morning with little memory of her arrival the day before and his pleasure at finding her beside him had been immense. They had talked for a short time as she fed him his breakfast, and again before lunch, but each time he had soon dozed off again, and she could see now that the short move had sapped his last bit of strength. "Go back to sleep," she said, her voice low and gentle. "Rest." Her free hand reached up to stroke his cheek soothingly.

Aragorn closed his eyes and sighed, luxuriating in her touch, unconsciously pressing his face against her palm. He drifted off into a light sleep, feeling his hand in hers and her fingers gently tracing down his face. After a time, he became conscious of soft sniffles beside him and he looked up to see Arwen watching him, her eyes shimmering beneath her black lashes. She tried to smile when she saw he was looking at her, but it suddenly trembled and a tear slid from her eye. "I'm sorry I woke you." She tried the smile again with the same result. "I was so frightened," she finally whispered, her voice breaking. "When you didn't come home, with the rain, I hoped you were sheltering here with Faramir and Eowyn, but when he and Eomer came into the city, and I saw their faces…" Her softly spoken words trailed off and she bent her head and rubbed her cheek against his hand where she held it. "I thought I had lost you."

Aragorn brushed a finger against her face, feeling the wetness of her tears. "I feared the same thing." He moved his head sideways on the pillow and looked past her. "I have never felt fear like that, Arwen. In all the battles I've been in, all the times I have come so close to death, have seen it all around me, I was not afraid. Not like that." His voice was quiet and unsteady, and when his eyes met hers she could see the reflection of the dread he had felt. "I never felt it before, the cold hand of death reaching for me." He gave a slight shudder.

Arwen forced a weak smile. "But you are here, safe and getting better." She caressed his cheek again, her fingers lightly tracing his temples and cheekbones. "There is no need to fear, now."

Aragorn hesitated and Arwen could read his thoughts in his eyes before he spoke. She dropped her head. "Did Faramir show you the declaration?" Aragorn asked, his voice slightly husky. She nodded but said nothing and he frowned and looked toward the window. "I thought I would die that night, Arwen. And as much as I loathed the thought of leaving you, I truly _feared_ leaving Gondor. Feared what might happen, were I to die without an heir. So I begged him to write it for me." Arwen loosened her hold on his hand and clasped her own before her, keeping her eyes down as she nervously twisted them, avoiding his gaze. He turned back to watch her, seeing tears drop onto her hands, and silently chastised himself. This conversation was going badly, as he had feared, as he had promised himself it would not.

He sighed and reached up to rub his head slightly, feeling the familiar dizziness creeping back across him, the deep ache in his belly and groin beginning to grow stronger. Swallowing back a groan Aragorn shifted in the bed and reached for his wife's hand. Grasping the delicate fingers between his rough ones, he spoke in a soft, pleading voice. "Arwen, I did not know what else to do. There must be an heir to the throne of Gondor and since we do not have a child…" She began to weep in quiet, desperate sobs. "I'm sorry," he said miserably, angry at himself for causing her tears.

"I cannot go through that again." It was the merest whisper. Aragorn squeezed her hand gently and there was silence as he searched for the right words to say, words of hope and encouragement. They did not come. "I know you are afraid," he said. "I am, too."

A quiet tap at the door brought Arwen to her feet, pulling her hand from his grasp. She opened the door to find Mellanar with a basket of healing supplies, an armload of fresh bandages and Eowyn's regular cup of medicine. "I thought I would change the bandages now that you are situated…" Seeing Arwen's tear-stained face he halted in the doorway. "My lady?" Arwen brushed past him and hurried down the hall, her black hair flying behind her. Mellanar stepped hesitantly into the room and placed the tray on the bed table. "Is she all right?" he asked, then saw the strained look on Aragorn's face. "Are _you_ all right?" The king merely gave a tired sigh and rubbed his eyes with his hand.

"No, Mellanar," he said distractedly. "But this is something you cannot help."

* * *

Eowyn eased the door shut behind her, smiling at the way Sam had fallen asleep instantly once in his bed, despite his protests that he was "too big for napping." The other boys had trooped out after lunch to have Bergil help them practice their archery, and then to join him in inspecting the flood damage close to the house. The young Lieutenant of Faramir's White Company had been instructed by both his lord and his father Captain Beregond to keep them occupied and out from under their mother's feet during their absence. Their departure and Sam's surrender to his nap left Eowyn with a few quiet hours ahead of her and she was looking forward to doing very little, perhaps just dozing in the sitting room, since there was no warm sunshine this afternoon.

Moving gracelessly down the hall, she saw Arwen push past Mellanar as he entered the king's room and hasten down the stairway. As quickly as she could, Eowyn followed her, suddenly worried. Arwen flew down the steps ahead of her and dashed out the door, Eowyn following with an annoying waddle as she tried to hurry. She caught up with her on the veranda, Arwen standing at the far end with her arms around herself, crying softly.

"Arwen?" Eowyn stood indecisively. Arwen whirled around, startled, and self-consciously brushed away her tears. Eowyn assumed she knew the cause of Arwen's sadness and moved toward her, wrapping a comforting arm around her slim waist. "Don't worry, he's going to be fine, I'm sure of it." She was surprised when Arwen pulled away, shaking her head.

"That's not it." The Elf buried her face in her hands and fresh sobs came from behind her fingers.

Eowyn gently took Arwen by the elbow and steered her toward one of the chairs nearby. "Here, sit down," she said, following her own words and lowering herself with a grunt into the pillowed seat. Arwen let Eowyn pull her down into the chair beside hers but then merely sat there, her hands in her lap and toying with the ribbons at the front of her dress. Her sobs had stopped, but the tears still fell silently from her blue eyes, tracing down her cheeks. She looked up at Eowyn at last.

"You must think me a fool," she said softly. "Crying when I should be rejoicing that my husband is alive and will recover his health."

"I have never known you to be a fool." Eowyn took Arwen's hand and patted it reassuringly. "I am certain if you are upset over something, it is important." She waited a moment, hoping Arwen would tell her what was wrong. Long minutes passed and Eowyn felt a chill of cool air brush by her and cast a quick glance at the sky, forcing herself to suppress a groan when she saw a dark rain cloud approaching. She looked at Arwen's bowed head, thankful that her years with Faramir had at least taught her a little patience. "Tell me what is wrong, Arwen."

"Did you know Aragorn had Faramir write a declaration, naming him his heir?" The Queen did not look up as she spoke and the unexpected subject of the question gave Eowyn a sudden quiver of worry. Was Arwen angry? Did she resent Aragorn's actions? She searched for the right response.

"I knew it, yes," she said slowly. "But, Arwen, that was when he first awoke, he was worried and upset and Faramir wanted to put his mind at ease." She squeezed the slender hand she held. "It is a formality…" Arwen was shaking her head again.

"I have failed him." She spoke the words dully, raising desolate eyes to Eowyn, who had never expected to see the beautiful Elf look so tortured and full of despair. "It is my fault that he has no heir, no child."

"No, no." Eowyn tried to console her. "Aragorn loves you so much, Arwen, and that is not the kind of thing you have control over."

"I have." Arwen wrenched her hand from Eowyn's and stood, stepping forward to lean against one of the carved posts that supported the veranda roof. She was facing away from Eowyn and her words were spoken so quietly Eowyn almost couldn't hear them. "He wants a child so badly, and I…I won't…I will not allow myself…" She sighed and covered her face with her hands once more.

Eowyn waited, her mind working furiously as she realized the meaning of Arwen's words. Of course she had heard all the myths and legends about the Elves, and dismissed them as such, but now Arwen seemed to be saying there was some truth in them. She sat back in the chair and regarded the figure before her. "Are you saying it is true, that Elvish women will not conceive a child unless they wish it so?" An unhappy nod was her only answer, followed by more stifled weeping. "Arwen-" Eowyn hoped the queen would look at her, she doubted she could get out of the low chair unassisted, and fortunately she did, her lovely face distorted from her crying. Eowyn held out a hand and Arwen came back and sat down in the chair again.

"Don't you want children?" Eowyn stroked the back of Arwen's hand as her green eyes met the queen's blue ones and watched as they dissolved into tears again.

"I do," Arwen nodded as she spoke, then shook her head. "But I am so afraid. I cannot-" She drew a shuddering breath.

"That is only to be expected," said Eowyn reassuringly. "We are all afraid, at first. It is no small thing to bring forth a child."

Arwen balled her hand into a fist and pressed it against her mouth, shaking her head as the tears coursing down her cheeks increased. Closing her eyes, she began to speak in a low, ragged voice. "The first year we were married, we were so anxious, so ready for a baby, and I became pregnant almost immediately. But only days after I was sure, after I had told Aragorn, I started bleeding." The face that she raised to Eowyn when she opened her eyes was harsh with bitter memory. "I lost that baby two days later."

Eowyn patted the smooth white hand she held. "I am so sorry. I never knew."

"We did not tell anyone," Arwen said in a bleak voice. "No one, not you or Faramir, or even my brothers. It was too painful." She looked up at Eowyn. "I had never even considered, never given any thought - we wanted a baby and we would have one, that was all there was to it." Her mouth trembled. "Aragorn was crushed, of course, but he never said anything. Never any accusations or –"

"Accusations?!" Eowyn was aghast. "Why would there be? Arwen, those things happen."

"Yes, I suppose." Arwen absently rubbed her fingers back and forth across the fabric of her gown. "It took me three years before I could gather my courage to try again. Three years before I could truly open myself up to him and not feel some of that fear and panic each time we made love." Her face colored slightly as she shared this intimate fact with Eowyn, who merely nodded encouragingly.

"But eventually, I did reach that point," she said faintly. "I overcame the fear, and the hunger for a child grew stronger, until I was ready once more. And soon, I was with child again." She kept her eyes on her fingers as they continued to stroke across the dark material, and then gave a soft cry, nearly a whimper, and Eowyn felt a cold stab in her heart, knowing what the next words would be. "It was about the time you were expecting Theoden, that summer. Because of – what had happened before, I waited. I didn't even tell Aragorn for several weeks after I was sure, I was so afraid."

"When I finally told him, oh, Eowyn." She smiled a sad, heartbreaking smile and Eowyn felt her own heart lurch with sorrow. "If you could have seen his face, his smile. He was so pleased. We were so happy. But I wouldn't let him tell anyone. I was still afraid, you see." Arwen sighed and pressed her lips together, fighting to keep from totally breaking down. "Before the third month had passed, I had miscarried again." Despite her intentions she began to weep quietly once more. "It was worse than the first time. I was further along, there was a great deal of bleeding…I was terrified, and so was Aragorn."

Eowyn managed to find her voice finally. "Did you see the healers? Surely they could have helped."

Arwen nodded. "I had a healer that time. Aragorn brought me old Ioreth." Her mouth twisted slightly. "I don't think she did anything he couldn't have done, but he was too overwhelmed, too worried. And it helped me to have a woman nearby. I know she often seemed thoughtless, but she was my strength at that time. She knew many things, many secrets." The tears slowed a little and Arwen sniffled as she tried to compose herself. "But she could not find any reason why it had happened. She tried to encourage me, said, as you just did, those things happen. Told me to wait a while and try again." A moment of silence passed as Arwen swallowed back her tears and wiped at her eyes with her fingers. "But I was too afraid. Death frightens me. I don't understand it. Ioreth tried to talk to me, to help me. She said it is just a part of being mortal, a part of living." Arwen smiled at Eowyn. "She was not the fool many took her to be."

Eowyn, who had received much of her healer's training under Ioreth's watchful (and garrulous) eye, knew Arwen spoke the truth. She looked at her with regret. "Had I known, I would have been there with you." Arwen gave her a look of surprise and denial. "No, you had Elboron, and Theoden was on the way."

"Still, if I had known," Eowyn reached out and smoothed back the dark hair across Arwen's brow. Strangely, though the elf was many times her age, Eowyn felt the older, the mature mother of a large brood trying to reassure the childless woman. "You should have told us, we are all the family most of us have anymore."

Arwen sighed and shrugged. "You could not have done anything."

"I could have been there for you. Sometimes just have someone nearby makes all the difference. And Ioreth was right, death is a part of life, but you are not alone in being afraid of it, or not understanding it." The queen remained silent, her hands twisting restlessly in her lap. Eowyn reached for Arwen's hand again and looked at her closely. "So, you are afraid to try any more, is that it?"

Arwen nodded. "I cannot bear to lose another baby," she said in a low, unsteady voice. "I cannot bring myself to let go, to try again. So, there are no children in the king's apartments, Gondor has no heir, and my husband no son, and he must make Faramir his successor, because of me." She suddenly gazed into Eowyn's face as a thought came to her. "It is not that I think Faramir unworthy, you understand?"

Eowyn gave her an understanding smile. "I know your regard for Faramir, Arwen, have no fears."

Arwen made a sound that was half sigh, half sob. "When Faramir came to my chambers, when he told me what had happened, all I could think of was that Aragorn was going to die, and I had nothing, no child, nothing of him to treasure and keep, to remind me of him." She pressed both hands to her face. "Then, I got here, and Mellanar seemed so pleased with all you have done, and Aragorn is getting better, and I have been telling myself it would be all right."

"And it will be," Eowyn said, trying to encourage her. "He will be better in no time."

"But nothing has changed!" Arwen's voice rose with frustration. "Gondor still needs an heir. My husband still wants a child, and I am still afraid." She choked out the last words.

The first faint patters of raindrops spattered across the roof of the veranda as Eowyn searched for words. She looked out across the lawn to the trees far below the house, beginning to bend slightly under the pressure of the rapidly strengthening storm. "Come into the house with me," she said, using Arwen's arm to hoist herself from the chair.

They retreated into the house and were met by Nan at the door, bearing a tray of hot tea and tiny pastries. "A little something special," she said with a smile, instantly changing direction and following them into the sitting room where she placed it on the table before the fire. She tactfully made no indication that she noticed Arwen's tear-stained face or swollen eyes, merely smiled at them both on her way out of the room. Eowyn motioned Arwen to a chair and took the opposite one before busying herself with the teacups and plates. When she had served the queen and had her own cup steaming before her, Eowyn looked at the woman across from her thoughtfully.

"I cannot tell you what to do, Arwen." She spooned some honey into her cup and stirred it, the clinking of the spoon against the china mixing with the snap of the fire and the soft shushing of the rain outside. Placing the spoon by the cup, she lifted it to her lips and took a sip before she continued.

"I can tell you, however, that I do not believe you are a failure if you do not produce a child, nor do I believe that Aragorn sees you as such. He loves you utterly, and will never stop." Her green eyes held Arwen fast, suddenly sharp and bright, the eyes of a fighter, a shieldmaiden. "And I know to what depths fear and despair can drive a person." She made a self-conscious gesture. "Do not let your thoughts dwell on the past, it leads to nothing but misery." She returned the cup to the saucer and leaned forward a bit.

"All I can tell you is that my children have brought me joy and happiness. Not because they are princes of Ithilien, nor because they are heirs to the line of the Stewards. They bring me joy because they are mine, and Faramir's and they are themselves, and every pain suffered for them, and every sacrifice made, has been worth it." She suddenly smiled a secretive little smile and reached across the table, taking Arwen's hand and placing it against her.

The heel of a tiny foot pressed through Eowyn's flesh and moved against Arwen's palm, determined and insistent. An impatient kick followed and Arwen's face filled with longing, then despair. "But what if it happens again?" she asked in a bare whisper. She pulled her hand away and shifted her gaze to Eowyn's face, her blue eyes haunted.

"But what if it does not?" Eowyn picked up her cup again and looked at Arwen. "Let me ask you, are you happy now, the way things are?"

Arwen hesitated, then shook her head. "No. I know Aragorn wants an heir; regardless of how much he loves Faramir, he wants a child of his to rule Gondor one day."

"No, I asked if you were happy, not Aragorn." Eowyn gently chided her and saw Arwen's eyes grow teary again.

"I do not know." She sighed and stared into her own cup a long moment. "I – no, no I am not. I want a baby." She looked guiltily at Eowyn. "Why do you think I avoid you when you are expecting?"

Eowyn looked at her with surprise. "Do you?"

Arwen nodded. "It's too hard. I am so jealous, and envious." She wrinkled her brow slightly as she confessed. "Being around you, or anyone else who is with child, hurts too much. All I can think of is that I want a baby so much…and I am so afraid." She shrugged helplessly. "I cannot explain it."

Although she remained silent, Eowyn lifted her brows appreciatively and drank her tea. "The longing for a child is something I think most women, and men for that matter, understand," she said finally. "And the fear. Perhaps we do not all have the same fear as you, but we have others; worry about our ability to care for them properly, to protect them, to see them become adults."

A sudden thumping of booted feet in the back hall announced the return of the boys. They clattered down the passage and peered in the doorway, four heads with hair sodden with rain water, four faces bright with smiles. "Mother!" They started in to recount the adventures of a fast-paced ride home in the rain with Bergil, only to be intercepted by Nan.

"Out!" She shooed them toward the stairway. "Upstairs and dried off immediately. And those boots! Covered with mud, they come off right now." Only Barahir managed to reach Eowyn and plant a sloppy kiss on her cheek before Nan snatched him away, smiling. "Your mother will be waiting right here when you are clean and dry."

Eowyn nodded to reassure them as they cast anxious glances toward her from the steps. "We're just having tea, I'll wait for you to come back down and you can tell me everything." As Nan herded her charges up the stairs and out of sight, Eowyn grinned at Arwen. "Besides Faramir, they are the most precious things in my life."

Arwen watched them go. "Aren't you ever afraid?" she asked. "Don't you worry about them, that something might take them from you?"

Eowyn's grin faded and she faced Arwen. "Every day, Arwen. Every day."

"How do you stand it?"

With a look of resignation, Eowyn leaned back in her chair. "It is the price I pay for having them to love," she said softly. "The more you have to love, the more you have to lose. But," she reached over and took the queen's hand in her strong grip, the blunt fingernails contrasting against Arwen's elegantly manicured ones. "It is worth it." She released Arwen's hand and they sat in silence, Eowyn drinking her tea as the queen stared into the fire, lost in her own thoughts.

The sound of the boys returning down the stairs moved Arwen to her feet. "They will want to tell you all about their afternoon, and I – I need to see to Aragorn." She bent down and kissed Eowyn's cheek. "Thank you," she whispered softly. Eowyn reached up and held her close, once again feeling the older of them.

"Love is dangerous," she said. "Because it makes you so vulnerable, Arwen. But it is always worth it."

* * *

Mellanar looked up as the bedchamber door opened and Arwen entered quietly. "My lady," he said, rising from the chair. She acknowledged him with a nod before sitting down beside Aragorn's sleeping form. Leaning over she gently kissed his cheek and he smiled but did awaken.

"I will stay with him now," said Arwen softly.

"He will sleep for a long while, my lady," said Mellanar. "I mixed the medicine a little stronger this time; he seemed to be in more pain." The healer kept his voice neutral even as he slid his eyes toward her.

A look of self-accusation and regret passed over the queen's face. "I'm sure he was. Thank you, Mellanar."

The healer bowed slightly and left, pulling the door closed behind him. After he had gone Arwen gingerly stretched out beside Aragorn, cuddling up beside him and resting her head against his bandaged shoulder. Reaching down beside her for his hand, she threaded her fingers through his and lay quietly, listening to the rain and the soft breathing of her husband beside her.

TO BE CONTINUED

* * *

As always - a thank you to Raksha for beta'ing! Also for Raksha and Cressida for discussions on Elvish conception.


	5. Hope and Joy and Faramir Once Again

**Hope and Joy, and Faramir Once Again**

* * *

The next few days passed peacefully. Arwen said nothing more to Eowyn about their conversation on the veranda, but it seemed to Eowyn that there had been some sort of decision made on her part. There had been no more tears, and often when Eowyn passed by the bedchamber and Aragorn was awake he and Arwen could be seen talking intently. Eowyn could see already how having her near had improved his spirits and aided his recovery, and the soft light in both of their eyes when they spoke to each other made her conscious of Faramir's absence all the more.

He had sent her a letter, written the first evening of his arrival and Arwen had carried it for him, although she had forgotten to give it to Eowyn until several hours after she had reached Ithilien. Only after she had seen Aragorn and been assured of his recovery had she remembered and handed it over to Eowyn with numerous apologies.

It had mostly let her know he had safely reached the city, given her a short description of the flood damage that matched what Elboron had told her and subtly apologized for not being with her. Eowyn couldn't help but hold the parchment with the familiar beloved handwriting against her breast.

He had promised to write every day, even if only a short note, but when it started raining again the day after Arwen's arrival, Eowyn knew there would be no letters any time soon. The blue-grey clouds pushed in so heavily they seemed likely to scrape their bellies against the tops of the trees and once the rain started it came down in sheets, the drops hitting so hard they bounced up again from the ground while a pale mist hovered around everything. Within a few hours the streams and small creeks that had been slowly draining the land were filled again and roaring out of their banks and Eowyn had stood dejectedly at the window in the sitting room, staring out at the gloom. Faramir would write, she knew, but no courier would be risked crossing the swollen creeks or the perilous bridge in Osgiliath. With a stifled sigh she straightened her shoulders as though preparing for battle. Only a small annoyance, she told herself. Soon a rider would appear with several letters, and after that, at some later time, Faramir himself would return home. She could wait.

Meanwhile, Mellanar meticulously cared for the king, dosing him with healing mixtures and gradually decreasing the sedatives as Aragorn regained his strength and was able to move about a little more freely. After three days, he gave his permission for the king to sit up for short periods of time. The sun, as though in celebration, put in an appearance for a moment. The healer also spent time fussing over Eowyn, much to her spoken annoyance and private delight.

She had been surprised at how much more rested and relaxed she felt after sleeping in her own bed a few nights and relinquishing her nursing duties to Arwen and privately determined to follow more of Mellanar's freely given advice as closely as possible. This had turned out to be more difficult than she had originally thought, however, as Mellanar was a great believer in frequent naps for expectant mothers, along with several meals a day and early bedtimes, and very much against long walks in the afternoon. Eowyn laughingly explained to the healer that she was following the same pattern she had with her previous five babies, and had never suffered ill effects. He grudging gave in on most things, allowing that "mayhap the women of Rohan are less delicate than those of Gondor." Still, his concern and care was something Eowyn enjoyed immensely, since having her pregnant and ready to deliver had become all too common for most of her household. Only Faramir had always treated her so carefully in her last few weeks and she found herself missing him immensely.

The rain eventually slowed and stopped and the promised rider had arrived on the fourth day after Faramir had left Ithilien, with several short notes and one long letter crammed into a leather pouch. The short notes had been penned in haste throughout the day or late at night, Eowyn could easily see from their abruptness, and the smudges across the pages. It seemed the flooding on the Pelennor had been extremely bad in several places and Faramir's and Eomer's time was being devoured by the planning and implementation of rescue operations, the restoration of farms and homesteads swept away by the turbulent waters and the distribution of relief supplies. The letter had been written just before the courier had departed Minas Tirith, questioning Eowyn about the king's health and full of concern for her own. She sent the man to the kitchen to eat before returning to the city. Knowing Faramir would be waiting for her answer, and fearing fresh flooding, she immediately began to write her answer.

She wrote on the veranda, enjoying the weak sunshine and watching the boys in the yard before her as they happily tormented a pair of large turtles that had been washed from their hole by the rushing stream. Eowyn considered them as they argued among themselves, smiling at their different personalities. While Theoden and Barahir would rather have studied the ungainly creatures in a scholarly fashion, Sam merely wanted to see how fast they could move and how far they could get in each of their unsuccessful escape attempts. Eomund had his knife out and was trying to hold onto one long enough to scratch his initial into the shell, and although Elboron had announced that he was not interested in the animals, Eowyn noticed he stayed close, supposedly to supervise the younger boys, and was often pointing out some interesting detail concerning the turtles to one or another of his brothers.

Eowyn filled the letter with news of home, hoping to relieve some of the stress that was evident even in Faramir's carefully chosen words, thinking the small details of everyday life would help take his mind from his duties at least for a while. She wrote about Aragorn's convalescence and her own good health, making every effort to set her husband's mind at ease. She was trying to describe the scene with the turtles before her when Nan suddenly appeared with a hot drink and a heavy shawl to wrap around her.

"Really, my lady, you should not even be out here in the chill air," she clucked reprovingly as she laid the warm material across Eowyn's shoulders. Eowyn took an appreciative sip of the warm, spiced cider and gazed up at her house matron.

"Did Mellanar send you out here with this?"

Nan looked shocked. "What? No, why would you think that?" Eowyn noticed her eyes shifted, however, as she protested, and laughed.

"I don't mind, Nan, honestly. It has been rather a nice change these last few days, after those before."

The house matron smiled down at her mistress. "You've been resting, like you should be, now that he's here to take care of the king, and in truth, the queen is the one who sent me out here." Eowyn nodded in appreciation, then frowned as the sun slid behind a dark cloud.

"You are right, it is too chilly out here," she said, gathering up her letter and calling to the boys to let the turtles go and come inside. There were groans but they trooped in behind her, leaving a trail of muddy footprints through the entryway that had Eowyn and Nan shaking their heads in despair. Hearing a chuckle, Eowyn looked up to see Arwen coming down the stairs.

"You'll be able to plant a garden IN the house before they're through," she said with a laugh. As she reached the bottom of the stairs she motioned the other women to her. "Aragorn says he will go mad if he has to stay in bed much longer, and Mellanar says he absolutely forbids him to move about yet." Her blue eyes looked just a trifle panicked, then took on a conspiratorial look. "I wondered, could the boys eat supper in our room tonight? Just for a little while, to keep him occupied?"

Nan said nothing but her face betrayed her thoughts. Eowyn could see her house matron weighing the idea of all five boys in the king's room with plates of hot food, cups, serving dishes. It was obviously a disaster in the making. Nan had opened her mouth to say as much when suddenly Eowyn had an idea and interrupted her.

"Field rations!"

Arwen and Nan looked at her as though she had lost her mind, so she quickly explained the meal she had delivered to the boys in the library a few days ago. A smile slowly spread across Arwen's face. "Perfect!" she said. "He can re-live his Ranger days." She and Nan went to the kitchen to make plans as Eowyn hurriedly finished her letter and sent the courier on his way.

That evening at the agreed upon hour a disciplined knock was sharply rapped on Aragorn's bedchamber door and each of the Steward's sons presented himself to the king in his own self-styled Ranger outfit, ranging from Elboron's elaborate leather tunic, a gift from Eomer for his twelfth birthday, to Sam's several sizes too big hand-me-down woolen cloak, dragging the floor behind him as he stumbled over an old scabbard of Faramir's, wrapped three times about his small waist. Each of the boys carried a traveling pack filled with his contribution to the feast that soon was laid out across a ragged cloth thrown across the foot of the bed, and the White Company's barracks had been raided in order to provide everyone with a small waterskin to carry across their shoulder.

Aragorn grinned with pleasure at the boys' clothing, and ate the plain food that was unpacked from the various leather sacks and pouches with good appetite. The younger boys heeded the threats their mother had whispered in the hallway and refrained from getting on the bed and jostling the king, while Elboron and Theoden, Eowyn was proud to see, discussed riding and archery practice politely with him.

It took just a little under an hour before Eowyn could tell that Aragorn was tiring, and she raised an eyebrow at Arwen, who had also noticed his attention had begun to fade. Quickly packing up the food, Eowyn had her sons make their farewells and sent them to finish their meal elsewhere. In a moment's generosity, she gave them permission to eat together in Elboron's room, such an unusual location that they all went without protest.

As she left the bedchamber she reached down to take Aragorn's hand and he smiled up at her. "I'm so glad you are feeling better," she said with a slight squeeze. "I told you there was hope, didn't I?" He squeezed her hand back and even though she could see the fatigue on his face she could see the returning strength, also. She smiled and followed the boys from the room.

After they all had gone the room seemed strangely quiet.

"They fill up the room," said Aragorn and Arwen smiled in agreement. She silently moved about gathering up the remnants of their meal, keeping watch on Aragorn as he relaxed beneath the coverlet and let his eyes slide shut. When she had finished, she pulled the curtains closed and blew out several of the candles that had been lighting the room. In the semi-darkness she curled up beside her husband and they lay quietly for a long time. Arwen was sure Aragorn had fallen asleep when he suddenly spoke into the shadowy room.

"What you said this morning, are you sure?" His uncertain voice held worry, fear, and something that sounded very much to Arwen like nervous excitement. She smiled and nodded, even though he could not see it, and pressed gently up against him.

"Yes." She moved slightly and drew his head down to rest on her shoulder and brushed a kiss on his cheek. "After having them all in here tonight, more than ever, I am sure. As soon as you are well." He nestled against her and was soon sleeping peacefully as she let her fingers play through his hair and hummed an ancient song, a song of love and hope.

* * *

* * *

Arwen looked up from her sewing and smiled as she watched Aragorn move his finger across the map that lay before him. "It is along this line of mountains…" He was seated in a lounge-chair on the veranda in the fading sunshine of early evening, surrounded by all of Faramir's sons.

"Legolas says it was filled with orcs." Elboron had edged closer to see the map and his voice was low, as if speaking of the foul creatures might cause them to unexpectedly appear.

"It was," affirmed Aragorn. "Thousands, it seemed." He raised his eyes from the worn parchment and met each of the five pairs that encircled him. "Your uncle Boromir killed several of them, and when we reached the bridge and they followed us, he blew a blast on the great horn he carried. The sound of it echoing halted even the Balrog for a moment." The king paused, suddenly carried back to that terrible day when the small group of travelers had been pursued through the smothering blackness of Moria.

"I've never even seen an orc," complained Eomund, his face clearly showing he felt cheated by this lack. Aragorn, pulled back from his memories, laughed and reached over the tousle his dark hair.

"You should be glad, Eomund." His face changed and he leaned back in the chair and gave each of them a measured look. "That is why we fought, your father, your uncles, and all the rest of us. So that you would never have to." His eyes grew distant as he stared at the woods below the house. "So our lands would be safe, and children could grow up in peace." Eomund made a sound of annoyance and seeing his words did not placate the boy Aragorn gave him a pat on the back. "Don't worry, there are still plenty of them, hidden in dark places. One day you can go orc hunting."

Arwen stood up. "Boys." Unconsciously she said the word like Eowyn. After only eight days in Ithilien she was already beginning to mimic their mother's voice whenever she spoke to them. "It will soon be time for dinner, go and wash up." Instantly they gathered up the map and went into the house. They might groan and argue with their mother occasionally, but not a word was raised against their queen. Arwen watched them go before turning to Aragorn.

"You tell a story like a lore master," she said admiringly. "I don't think they even gave a thought to their mother."

"Elboron did," answered Aragorn. "I saw him looking up at the window more than once." He swung his leg stiffly over the side of the lounge. "He knew this morning when you sent them off to the stables with Bergil."

"He's the oldest," reminded Arwen. "He's been through it before. I'm just glad Mellanar was here," she said with a look of relief. "It all happened so fast, and I think Nan would have had her hands full without him!"

Aragorn laughed. "But none of the boys seemed impressed."

His wife rolled her eyes. "Oh, boys, they aren't interested in babies. Once they knew Eowyn was all right, they lost interest. I'll let them visit for a moment after they eat. Maybe by then they will be more appreciative." She reached down and helped Aragorn up from the chair. He moved slowly, leaning his weight on her as he got to his feet. After he stood up he was still for a moment and she put her arms around his waist, worried he might be light-headed. This was only the third day Mellanar had permitted him to be up and walking for short periods of time and his first venture down the stairs and onto the veranda. "All right?"

Aragorn looked at her, his thoughts elsewhere. "What? Oh, yes." His eyes strayed back to the road leading up to the house. "I was hoping he'd be here by now." Arwen followed his gaze down the road and then moved to gauge the last sliver of the setting sun dipping below the horizon.

"He still has time, it won't be full dark for a while yet."

"You sent the messenger this morning, as soon as her labor started." Aragorn's voice sounded slightly irritable and his wife gave him a careful hug and laughed out loud. He looked down at her, perplexed and she tried to explain.

"For once you are the one sitting around waiting for someone to come home. It is really quite amusing." He frowned but then gave her as embarrassed look as he saw her point. Arwen turned toward the house to help him inside. "Be patient. The rider has to get there, give the news, preparations have to be made, then he has to ride back. He'll be here, if not tonight, tomorrow."

They had taken only a few steps when the sound of pounding hooves came to them through the dusk. Immediately both their heads turned to the direction of the noise and they saw Faramir's big bay horse emerge from the trees and charge across the meadow, its sweat-covered chest attesting to the haste of its rider.

"See," said Arwen complacently.

"It's a good thing Eomer gave him that horse," Aragorn observed quietly. "It's got the strength of a cave troll. He probably ran it all the way from Minas Tirith." He frowned. "Did he ride alone? Not even one guard with him?"

"They don't have Rohirric horses, he no doubt outran them," said Arwen. "They'll be here after dark." Aragorn gave a little chuckle of agreement.

They waited on the veranda until Faramir reined the horse to a slithering stop just at the bottom of the steps. He leaped down from the saddle and took the steps two at a time, rushing past them a few feet in the twilight before he realized who he had passed and skidded to a halt.

"My lord!" Faramir's face was a mixture of emotions; delight at seeing Aragorn up and about, concern for Eowyn, and uncertainty over whether or not he could politely pass up the king and queen and go see his wife. "You look well-"

The king shook his head and waved Faramir toward the door. "Stop. Don't waste your time here. Go see to your wife."

Without even answering Faramir immediately turned on his heel and continued his headlong rush up the stairs. Arwen and Aragorn smiled to each other as they followed much more slowly. They entered the house and were passing the sitting room when Arwen could feel Aragorn's body beginning to tense slightly. She immediately steered him toward a chair. "Sit down a minute. The steps will take some time." He only nodded jerkily, glad to have something solid to rest on. Arwen stepped back and considered. "I think I'll go get Mellanar to help get you upstairs."

"No!" Aragorn gritted his teeth. "Just let me rest a while." She quietly agreed, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and letting him lean against her as he took several deep breaths and waited for his heart to stop pounding.

Meanwhile, when he reached the door of his and Eowyn's bedchamber, Faramir had forced himself to stop, not wanting to frighten or disturb her by bursting in like a madman. He took a deep breath, telling himself it was ridiculous for a man with five children already to be so nervous and excited about the sixth. It didn't help, however, and when he opened the door and saw Eowyn's wan face turn toward him from the bed he rushed across the room.

"Eowyn!" He leaned over and kissed her cheeks, her mouth, her forehead, as his hands stroked the thick blond braid hanging over her shoulder. She smiled up at him as Nan fussed over the cradle at the foot of the bed.

"Are you well?" he asked, stroking her face gently with his fingers. "Wasn't it too early? Is everything - are you truly all right?" She nodded.

"Everything, and everyone, is fine. I'm just tired." Her green eyes twinkled and she gave him a pleased grin. "We have broken your streak of boys at last, my love," she said, nodding behind him.

When he turned around Nan handed him a tiny bundle and Faramir's heart was instantly lost. Huge grey eyes peered up at him from under a head full of black fuzz as little pink lips puckered and pursed. "A girl?" he asked and Nan dipped her head in confirmation. Carefully sitting down on the edge of the bed Faramir held his daughter before him and gazed down at her.

"She's beautiful," he whispered. He unwrapped the blanket a bit and looked at her miniature feet and hands. Had the boys ever been this small? He was sure they had not. She was the tiniest thing he had ever seen. Her grey eyes regarded him soberly for a moment before they squeezed shut and she began to make soft mewling sounds.

"My lord?" Nan's voice interrupted his worshipful examination and he turned to her only to be cautiously offered another small parcel wrapped in blankets. Faramir looked at Nan and then at Eowyn, his face filling with confusion, then astonishment. Eowyn could hold back any longer and began giggling.

"Here," she said, taking the first bundle from him as Nan placed the second in his hands. Another set of grey eyes, but these ones set under blond brows already pulled together in a ferocious frown; this miniscule bottom lip sucked in and working furiously as the baby's face began to turn red and her own reedy cry rose to mingle with her sister's.

"Two?" Faramir said weakly.

Eowyn's laughter rang out. "Two. You have outdone yourself, Faramir."

Faramir's mouth hung open for a split second and Eowyn laughed again at the unusual sight of seeing her husband totally dumbfounded. Reaching back to collect the first little one from Eowyn, Faramir gathered both babies in his arms and held them close, looking back and forth between them. "They are so small," he said softly, pressing a gentle kiss on the head of the blond, whose cries instantly quieted.

"They only had half the room," Nan said with a smile.

Faramir raised his eyes to look over the babies' heads at Eowyn. "Are you truly well? Are they well? Was it not worse because they were two?"

Eowyn shook her head. "They are perfect, just small, and Mellanar was here, he has birthed twins before. It was no worse than any of the others."

"They just came early," said Nan. "And in a rush." She and Eowyn laughed.

Faramir moved up on the bed and placed a baby in each of Eowyn's arms, then sat back and regarded the scene before him. She raised her eyes and they grinned at each other in idiotic delight.

"We only chose one girl's name, didn't we?" Faramir asked. "We'll need another, now." They had decided years ago to name a daughter Theodwyn after Eowyn's mother, but the succession of boys had never given them an opportunity. Now Eowyn looked down at her daughters and then back to her husband.

"If you don't mind, I'd like to name them something rather different."

He tilted his head at her, his grey eyes bright with curiosity. "What?"

"I'd like to name them Estel and Alasse." Eowyn watched Faramir's face, trying to gauge his reaction as he considered the names carefully.

"Estel and Alasse, Hope and Joy." Faramir nodded his head and smiled. "Perfect." He leaned down and kissed each of them, then Eowyn. "The king will be honored." A partially stifled yawn broke across Eowyn's face and Faramir gathered the babies up and gave them back to Nan, who placed them together in the cradle and then left the room to give them some time together.

Faramir turned and scooted up on the bed to put his arms around Eowyn and she leaned against him, her head resting on his chest. "I have missed you so," she said sleepily.

"And I, you," he answered in a soft voice, his hand smoothing back the hair that had escaped her braid. He kissed the top of her head and they sat motionless, Faramir watching the last of the evening light disappear through the window as Eowyn drowsed against him.

"I think Arwen was surprised." Eowyn's comment startled him; he had thought she was asleep.

"Why?" He looked down. Eowyn was still cuddled against him, her eyes closed even as she spoke.

"It was not as horrible as she thought it would be, I suppose." Eowyn's mouth quirked up on one side.

"Did she expect it to be horrible?"

"I think so." Quietly Eowyn told him what she had learned from the queen during the talk on the veranda several days ago. "My heart broke for both of them, Faramir."

Faramir was silent, trying to imagine his own feelings if Eowyn would have ever lost a child, or if he had had no children at all. He remembered the several times he had urged Aragorn to produce an heir for Gondor, advice he knew had also been freely given by Eomer and Imrahil on several different occasions. Aragorn had never responded with anything other than a polite smile and a few bland words. His silence became more understandable with Eowyn's words and Faramir felt a stab of guilt.

A soft tap sounded at the door and Eowyn sighed and shifted back against the pillow so that Faramir could move from the bed to open it. Aragorn and Arwen had finally made their way up the stairs and entered the room at a snail's pace. Faramir could see small beads of sweat on the king's forehead and that his weight was resting a little heavier on Arwen after the long climb.

"He insisted on seeing them again before he went back to bed," Arwen said with a note of indulgence in her voice.

Quickly Faramir lifted the babies from the cradle and carried them across the room. Aragorn smiled and brushed a finger that trembled slightly with fatigue across each tiny pink cheek. He looked up at Faramir and smiled, and now that he had heard Eowyn's story Faramir could see the faint shadow of longing in the eyes of his king.

"They are splendid, Faramir." He turned to Arwen and she nodded in agreement.

"Glorious. Perfect little flowers." She reached down for a tiny hand and smiled as miniature fingers gripped her own. "What will you call them, Finduilas and Theodwyn?"

"No," said Faramir, looking at his daughters. "We are calling them Estel and Alasse." He saw the surprise and pleasure on Aragorn's face. Arwen gave him a dazzling smile.

"Hope and Joy." She looked past him and met Eowyn's eyes. "How lovely."

"Who is who?" asked Aragorn, causing a moment of confusion as Faramir's eyes went from babies to Eowyn to babies again.

"The blond is Alasse," said Eowyn in a quiet voice that somehow still made the decision settled.

Aragorn cupped his hand around Estel's head, dwarfing her tiny features. "Estel," he said softly and then moved his hand to her sister. "Alasse." His eyes lifted and met Faramir's. "You are twice blessed, my lord Steward." He looked over at Eowyn. "My lady." As he turned to go Faramir could see the look of yearning that passed between him and Arwen and he felt a wave of compassion toward them.

After they had gone Faramir returned the babies to the cradle and divided the next hour between watching them and Eowyn nap. Soon Nan arrived bearing an elaborately arranged tray of food. Eowyn awoke famished and as she and Faramir ate they talked of all that had occurred in the week they had been apart. She elaborated on her talk with Arwen and told him of the boys' activities, while his descriptions of the flood damage and losses of homes and livestock made it easy to see how hectic his time had been at Minas Tirith. The faint beginning of a whimper from the cradle interrupted him and Eowyn moved her plate aside and held out her arms. "Give her to me."

"Which one?" He gave her a playful teasing look.

"Whoever is crying."

A moment later Estel was hungrily searching for her mother's nipple. When she had latched on and was suckling intently Eowyn held out her arm again. "Now Alasse."

"She's not awake," Faramir said, looking down at the sleeping baby in the cradle.

"Mellanar said to try to get them eating at the same time or I'll never have a moment's peace." Faramir handed the baby to Eowyn, who tried mightily to interest her in a meal, but the little grey eyes stayed shut and no amount of tickling her feet or cheeks could convince her it was time to eat. After a few minutes Eowyn shook her head in defeat and Faramir returned the baby to the cradle. "She'll be hungry as soon as this one is finished and sleeping," predicted Eowyn with a look of annoyance. Faramir smiled.

"Your time is going to be quite full for a while," he said. "Do you want a wet nurse?"

Eowyn gave him a look of horror. "Thank you, no. I am quite able to take care of my own children." Faramir looked at her affectionately; remember the shock among many of the nobles when Eowyn had insisted on nursing Elboron herself. In Rohan it was considered an honorable thing for a woman to nurse her own children, not a tedious job to be avoided if at all possible, as it was among so many of the upper class in Gondor. With each child born to her, Eowyn had ignored the whispers and proudly nursed, causing quite a stir and pleasing her husband immensely with her spirit.

"You may change your mind when you've gone two days with no sleep," he suggested, laughing at her snort of disbelief.

As expected, no sooner was Estel finished and settled back in the cradle than Alasse began her own demanding cry and when the nipple was offered this time she was eager to accept. For all her initial reluctance she ate faster than her sister and was returned to the cradle and sleeping soundly in a short time. Eowyn lay back and watched with a smile on her face as Faramir bent over the cradle, his eyes softly shining. When he looked up to find her watching him he smiled self-consciously and then moved up to give her a soft kiss on the lips. "You are beautiful, and wonderful, and brave, and I love you very much," he said. She smiled and kissed him back. "I love you, too."

Brisk knocking at the door was followed by its opening and Nan ushering in the boys to tell Eowyn good night. They were surprised and happy to see their father also there, his arrival much more exciting to them than that of their little sisters. Eowyn received a dutiful peck on the cheek from each of them and little girls a passing glance before they turned to Faramir, all of them wanting to tell him about their past week. He eventually ended up leaving the bedchamber and escorting them to their rooms while listening to each recounted adventure. It was nearly an hour before he returned to Eowyn and she had fallen asleep by that time. Giving her a gentle kiss on the cheek and peeking in on the sleeping infants in the cradle, he decided to see if Aragorn was awake and give him a report on the condition of the city and it's surrounding areas.

Arwen answered his knock with a welcoming smile. He began to explain his errand in a low voice, but seeing Aragorn lying in the bed apparently asleep Faramir changed his mind and turned to go.

"No, stay," said the king quietly. "Tell me how my kingdom fares, my lord Steward. I can listen with my eyes closed." He opened one eye and peered at Faramir. "Is it as bad as I suspect?"

Faramir sat down in a chair near the bed and leaned forward, clasping his hands in front of him. "The flooding in some areas was quite extensive. There were at least thirteen deaths, and we still have about 200 refugees in Minas Tirith. Most are there because their homes were swept away, or so badly damaged they are unlivable.

"Thirteen?" The king's face was distressed and both eyes opened and met Faramir's.

"I held a memorial service yesterday," he said quietly. "Two people are still missing."

"I should have been there," Aragorn said. He sat up in the bed and looked across the room at Arwen. "I need to get back." She came over and gently pushed him down again, pulling the blanket up around him.

"You are not moving until Mellanar says you can." Her quiet demeanor did not mask the firmness of her tone.

"Arwen!"

"You just walked back upstairs from the veranda and look how tired you were," she said. "You are not ready to travel back to the city yet." She laid a soothing hand along his cheek. "Soon, when you are ready. Until then Faramir can take care of things. He IS the Steward, I thought." She gave him a smile and Faramir hurriedly agreed.

"Everything is going well, Aragorn, there is no need to worry. I have Eomer to help me and we are managing. The people know you are injured, they understand." He sent Arwen a hopeful look as Aragorn considered his words.

What about the docks at Harlond?" Aragorn asked after a moment. "They were in already in disrepair last fall."

Faramir gave a sigh. "Over half were destroyed. The flooding was worst southeast of the city." He went on, giving details of the damaged areas, most of which he or Eomer had inspected personally in the last several days. "Once the weather turns, the farmers will need to get their crops in, they will not have time to do both planting and building. And the quays must be restored before first early harvest. I have started forming several companies made up of soldiers and volunteers from the city. As soon as we get some dry weather, they will begin rebuilding."

"When is Legolas due back?" Aragorn's voice sounded weary and Faramir saw Arwen glance down at him with concern on her face.

"He said in the spring, so I look for him any time." He stood up and moved toward the door. "I will leave you to rest, my lord."

Aragorn frowned and motioned him back. "Stay a while." He sat up in the bed once more, tensing his body and biting his lip to keep back a groan. Arwen sighed and gathered up the tray that held the dishes from their meal.

"I'll take these back to the kitchen," she said, giving him a small glare of disapproval as she left the room.

"She's going down there to get Mellanar to mix up some sleeping draught," groused Aragorn. He saw Faramir still standing uncertainly at the doorway. "Sit down," he said. "Please."

Faramir reluctantly sat back down. "Aragorn, perhaps you should try to get some sleep-"

"Hmmph!" The king grunted with disgust. "I'm tired of sleeping, Faramir. I'm tired of doing nothing." He gave his Steward a desperate look that was half serious. "Can't you help me escape?"

A smile broke across Faramir's face. "No, my lord. I fear the anger of both our wives far too much to risk such an adventure."

Aragorn smiled back despite his moodiness and nodded in understanding. He grudgingly leaned back against the pillows again, trying without success to stifle another groan. "Do you know your wife informed me several days ago I was spoiled?"

Faramir's face froze for a moment as he tried to decide if Aragorn was angered by Eowyn's comment. Seeing the edge of the king's mouth was turned up slightly he decided it was safe to smile. "She is always quite – um – willing to give her opinion, my lord. You know that."

"She was right," admitted Aragorn. "She said I was not used to being cared for, or resting, and she was right. It has been very unpleasant." He paused thoughtfully a moment. "For both me and those around me, perhaps," he said. He looked at Faramir. "And yet also very pleasant. Not the circumstances, certainly." His eyes flicked down to indicate the bandaged areas on his body. "But, these days here in your home with your family have been special ones, Faramir." He faltered a bit and ducked his head to intently stare at the coverlet. "Arwen and I rarely have had such a long period of time together with no responsibilities. It has been good, given us time to talk, and listen to each other. To just enjoy being alive and together." He looked at Faramir, as if worried his words were too personal.

Faramir nodded soberly. "Those times come all too seldom for most of us."

The king let his head rest against the pillow for a moment, thinking. Then he grinned at Faramir. "Your boys! Faramir, your sons are wonderful; you should be proud of them. They have given me much amusement this past week."

A glow of love lit up Faramir's grey eyes. "I'm glad, my lord. I am proud of them. All of them." Only someone who knew the Steward as well as Aragorn would have caught the slight stress on the word 'all'. Aragorn's eyes met Faramir's and though no words were spoken, a silent understanding passed between them for a moment and Aragorn knew to change the subject.

"Eowyn has been a great help and comfort," he said. "To me, and," again his eyes dropped to the coverlet as he became slightly self-conscious, "especially to Arwen. I know their talks have meant a great deal to her."

"Aragorn," Faramir shifted uncomfortably in the chair. "Eowyn told me what Arwen said, about –" he had a sudden worry that Aragorn might not have approved of Arwen sharing such things with Eowyn and stumbled over his words. "About babies, your – her – the problems." He looked at the king apologetically. "All those times I spoke to you about having an heir, I didn't know – I thought –". He flushed and looked down at the floor. "I'm sorry."

Aragorn pressed his lips together and shook his head slightly. "It is nothing for you to apologize for, Faramir. You did not know. I understood your concerns. I think now you understand mine a little better, and why I pressed you for the declaration." Faramir nodded.

"And I feel better knowing it is written down and in the House of Records," said Aragorn. He hesitated, not sure if he wanted to go on, but then took the chance and continued speaking. "But perhaps it will be unnecessary. We have decided to try again, Arwen and I, when I am recovered." He tried to keep the nervousness out of his voice and looked at Faramir with hopeful, hesitant eyes. "Thanks to Eowyn."

Faramir met his gaze and held it. "I wish you success, my friend," he said fervently.

Aragorn bowed his head slightly, as if he were receiving a blessing. "Thank you," he said in a husky voice.

The door opened quietly behind them and they each quickly composed themselves. Arwen came in carrying a cup that had a by-now familiar smell and Aragorn gave Faramir a look of resignation. "I told you."

"Mellanar says this will help you feel better." Arwen handed it to her husband and stood there waiting for him to drink it. Aragorn looked at Faramir helplessly and his Steward laughed and got to his feet.

"Get some sleep, Aragorn. I speak from experience when I tell you it is best to follow the advice of the healer." With a gentle pat to the healing shoulder of the king, Faramir left the room and went to spend a few moments with his wife and new daughters before going to bed. In the morning, he would head back to Minas Tirith.

* * *

TO BE CONTINUED

* * *

NOTE: According to several on-line Elvish/English dictionaries and translations, Alasse is Elvish for Joy. And, of course, we know Estel is Hope, from Tolkien himself.

Thanks for Raksha for beta'ing AND suggesting that Arwen would consider the little girls "Glorious. Perfect little flowers." (A high compliment from the nature-loving Elves!)


	6. Eldarion

**Eldarion

* * *

**

****

Outside the window a rare winter snow was falling in Minas Tirith, huge, soft flakes that piled up swiftly, rounding off corners and softening sharp angles. The fluffy white flakes had been falling since midnight and now, in the dark stretches of the wee hours, two men were waiting in the king's chambers.

Aragorn stood by the window, his eyes fixed on the snow drifting onto the ledge outside the ancient glass panel, his thoughts far away and yet only in the next room down the hall. Faramir slumped drowsily in the large armchair in front of the glowing fireplace, alternately dozing and waking, each time shifting position in an attempt to stay awake.

They had been there since noon and while they had spent time in the beginning with excited conversation, as the hours had passed and lengthened they had long ago given up talking and were now reduced to merely waiting through the interminable hours of the night.

Faramir's head bobbed up again and he shook himself lightly and stretched his legs out before him, laying his head back against the chair. "Still snowing?" he asked, the disinterest in his voice making it clear he was merely making conversation.

"Hard as ever." Aragorn's soft answer came in a voice rough with worry and tiredness. He clasped his hands behind him and sighed. Silence descended again and Faramir's eyes began to droop once more.

The large wooden door leading off to the right of the room suddenly opened and Aragorn whirled around as Faramir clambered to his feet. Eowyn came into the room, looking slightly disheveled but with her eyes shining and she beamed a smile at Aragorn as she crossed the room to take his hands in hers. Her smile lit up her face as she looked up into his eyes. "A boy, my lord."

The king's grip tightened around hers and grey eyes searched her green ones for a moment. "A boy?" His voice was hushed. She nodded. "And Arwen?"

"She is fine. Tired, but fine." Eowyn smiled again and leaned up to kiss his cheek. "Congratulations." She shrieked as Aragorn suddenly caught her up in a hug and spun her around. Setting her back down on her feet he turned and found Faramir beside him.

"Congratulations, my friend." They embraced each other and then stepped back, each still holding the other's shoulders. With a laugh Faramir gave Aragorn another rough hug and a thumping pat on the back. He saw Aragorn swipe a hand across his eyes but remained silent as the king stood there a moment looking at them in relief and happiness.

"Don't you want to see them?" Eowyn indicated the door as if she thought there might be the possibility he was not interested and Aragorn grinned and rushed past her towards the bedchamber. Behind him Faramir hugged Eowyn and kissed her forehead. "This is nearly as good as having our own," he said and she laughed at him. "Spoken like a man. This birth was certainly easier for me than any of ours!" He laughed with her and pulled her close again.

In the large poster bed in the king and queen's bedchamber, Arwen lay propped up against several pillows, her dark hair pulled back from her face, the sweat-dampened tendrils curled against her forehead. Her face was drawn and she had dark circles under her eyes but when she saw Aragorn standing hesitantly at the door she gave him a welcoming smile and held out her arms.

In an instant he was beside her and had her enfolded in his arms, pressing his face against her cheek and kissing her tenderly. "I love you," he said and she gave a soft laugh and kissed him back. "And I love you."

"Are you all right?" Aragorn held her face between his hands and searched her eyes. "Really? Was it terrible?" She pulled one hand down and kissed his palm. "I'm fine." She sat back against the pillows again and looked over at Mellanar, who grinned as he reached down into the elaborate cradle beside the bed and handed the king his son.

Aragorn took the baby into his arms and cuddled him close, just as he had all of Faramir's children, and Eomer's and the countless other babies he had held in his long life. But this time when he looked down into those dark, innocent eyes, the wave of love and protection and pride that swept over him nearly left him breathless. He reached down and ran his hand over the baby's face, feeling his bud of a nose, his soft cheeks, the silky black hair on his head, the faint point on the end of his slightly tapered ear. A drop of water splashed onto a round cheek and the baby screwed up his face in displeasure, and Aragorn realized the tears that he had been able to keep in check until now had escaped. Clearing his throat in embarrassment he put up a hand and quickly rubbed his eyes. "He's beautiful," he said in a hoarse whisper. The smile that Arwen gave him when he met her eyes made his heart swell and he sat down beside her and leaned over to kiss her again. "Perfect," he said softly. "Both of you."

When he looked up he saw that Eowyn and Faramir had followed him and were standing in the doorway. He motioned with his head for them to enter and they came to stand beside him, Faramir bending down to inspect the baby.

"He is quite handsome, my lord." The baby suddenly yawned and squeaked and the three other adults laughed but Aragorn sat as though entranced, oblivious, not even noticing Arwen and Eowyn's shared look, and finally Faramir put his hand on his shoulder. When he looked up, Faramir gave him a smile. "Today you are blessed, Aragorn." The king found his eyes were blurry again and he had to swallow before he spoke.

"Thank you, my good friends." He knew the time spent with Eowyn last year had made the difference in Arwen's willingness to try once more for a child and that once she was expecting Eowyn and Faramir had both had agreed with him in insisting Arwen have Mellanar as her personal healer the entire time. He knew Faramir had done everything in his power to free up Aragorn's time so he could be with his wife during her pregnancy, and when Eowyn had forsaken the comforts of Ithilien and left her own family to spend the last month in the city during winter just so she could be close by when Arwen was delivered, Aragorn had been overwhelmed by their love.

Eowyn kissed him on the cheek once more, then pressed her lips to the baby's head. She moved around the bed so that she could hold Arwen close before she turned to go. "I am so happy for you," she said, brushing a strand of dark hair back from the pale face. Arwen returned her hug.

"Thank you, for everything," she said. Her blue eyes were bright with tears. "For everything, Eowyn."

Eowyn smiled. "As I told you last year, Arwen, we are each other's family, now. I want you think of us that way." Arwen's mouth trembled and she could only rest her head against Eowyn's shoulder as they embraced once more. Eowyn stroked her hair gently. "I knew you could do it," she spoke quietly in Arwen's ear. "I'm proud of you."

"Is there a name for this child?" Faramir watched as Aragorn peered into the baby's eyes once again. "The Steward of Gondor would like to send out criers announcing the birth of the king's son." Aragorn looked up at him.

"Eldarion," he said faintly, looking at Arwen for confirmation on the name they had chosen. She nodded. "Eldarion."

Faramir nodded and with a last gentle squeeze of Aragorn's shoulder, and one of his slow, shy smiles bestowed upon Arwen as he leaned over and kissed her gently on the cheek, he turned to leave and begin informing the people of Gondor of the arrival of the king's heir. Eowyn joined him, promising to return in the morning while Mellanar quietly gathered up his things and with a bow, left the king and queen alone together.

After he had gone, Aragorn stood up, still holding the baby and walked over to the bedchamber window. Arwen watched as Aragorn held Eldarion close to him and leaned down to press his lips against the silky hair. He placed his finger next to the small fist and smiled with delight when the baby wrapped his tiny fingers around his father's and held on tightly. "I've been waiting for you," Aragorn whispered. "For a long, long time."

* * *

TO BE CONTINUED

* * *


	7. Birthday Gifts

**Birthday Gifts

* * *

**

"There is a messenger from Gondor here, my lord." The king's secretary bowed as Eomer looked up, his face lighting up with interest. Anything to get him away from all the paperwork spread out across the table before him.

"Send him in," he said, shoving the large pile of reports away from him with obvious pleasure.

The secretary hesitated. "He says the nature of his message entails that you must meet him outside, my lord king."

"Why? What is it?"

"I know not, my lord."

Eomer jumped to his feet. "Then let us go see to this message." He strode out of the Golden Hall and down the stone staircase to find a tall, dark-haired man waiting, accompanied by a small pony cart. If not for the obviously new livery that he wore, emblazoned with the White Tree, Eomer would have written the man off as a common laborer or farmer.

"My lord." The man quickly bowed low and Eomer acknowledged him with a nod and gestured for him to rise.

"What message do you bring me from Gondor that must be given outside my hall?" Eomer stood frowning, his arms crossed before him as the messenger unrolled a small scroll of parchment.

"His Majesty, King Elessar of Gondor, wishes to announce the birth of a son, on January 26."

The King of the Mark looked over at the guards who had accompanied him from the hall, then back to the courier. "This is not news. We received this information more than two months ago."

The messenger looked up from his scroll and cleared his throat nervously. "There is more, my lord." He hastily continued. "In celebration of this arrival of a son, this gift comes as a personal thanks to Eomer, son of Eomund, King of Rohan, who saved the life of King Elessar." With a clumsy flourish, the messenger rolled up the scroll and turned to lift a rather large wooden slotted crate down from the back of the pony cart. He placed it on the ground before Eomer and stepped back, raising his eyes expectantly to those of the king.

Eomer looked at him. "Well, open it," he growled, sending the man scrambling to the back of the cart to find a pry bar. A few quick thrusts and the end of the crate fell open, revealing two large fluffy balls, who immediately untangled themselves and looked around them curiously. Eomer's face split into a grin. "What is this?" he asked, kneeling down to examine the puppies.

"They are Dalian dragonhounds, my lord." The pride in the man's voice was evident.

"Dragonhounds?" Eomer already had the black puppy in his hands, holding him back as he frantically tried to lick the king's face. The smaller brindle one was sniffing his boots cautiously. "I have never heard of them."

"They are an old and very valuable breed, my lord, bred by only a few men in the mountain of Erebor near the city of Dale." Forgetting his nervousness before the king, the man knelt down beside Eomer and stood the brindle puppy before him. "See the legs? Here in the back? This dog will stand nearly four feet tall when she is grown. They can keep up with a horse on a day's quick march. And the coat?" He reached over and twisted Eomer's fingers through the thick wiry black hair of the puppy. "It not only turns a hard rain, but is also so dense that few things can bite through it."

"Do they really hunt dragons?" Eomer asked the question teasingly but his laughter faded when the man answered him soberly.

"Yes, my lord. The black one's grandsire had three cold-drake kills." He looked at the king. "Of course, you have to hunt them when they are small, you know. Once they are bigger than a yearling colt, they are too much for the dogs."

Eomer stared at the man with new respect. "You have hunted dragons?"

"Yes, my lord. As a young man. There are not so many any more."

The king looked down at the new arrivals, one now biting at the leg of his breeches. "King Elessar sends these to me as a gift?"

"Yes, my lord." The messenger nodded. "And my own services, my lord, for the course of one year. I bred these dogs myself, and would be happy to train them for you." He reached inside his tunic and pulled out a small piece of parchment. "The king sends you a personal note, my lord." He handed the parchment over and Eomer unfolded it.

**_Eomer-_**

**_If not for you there would be no king and no heir. I am assured these dogs are most ferocious and faithful and thought that hunting dragons might appeal to you. Please take them in place of that which was lost last year in preserving my life. _**

**_Aragorn_**

****

Eomer grinned as the brindle puppy suddenly growled and crawled over his boots to attack the black one. "A male and a female, I assume?"

"Yes, my lord."

The King of the Mark stood up and clapped the messenger on the shoulder. "Welcome to Meduseld, um-"

"Noloran, my lord."

"Welcome to Meduseld, Noloran."

"Thank you, my lord."

Eomer bent over and picked up the black puppy. "Do they have names?" Noloran shook his head and Eomer looked the puppy over thoughtfully. When the puppy found he couldn't reach Eomer's face he settled for squirming around to lick the hands that held him, whining softly. Eomer set him back down on the ground and the pup gave a sharp bark and attacked the king's boot laces, growling passionately. Immediately Eomer said "Your name is Orc." Reaching down for the brindle puppy he held her up before him, laughing when she snapped at his nose playfully. "And you, you will be called Princess, after my sister, who is also always trying to bite my nose off." He looked quickly at the guards behind him. "You are never to reveal that to Lady Eowyn." The men grinned and hastily nodded their heads.

"My lord?" Eomer turned with a sigh to find his secretary had followed him from the hall. "The reports…"

The King of the Mark hesitated, then flashed a sly smile at his new houndsmaster. "Perhaps I can finish them later, after I have seen the new dogs settled."

"My lord." Noloran was no fool and had seen and understood the king's look. "It is very important that their master spend a great deal of time with them at first. The bonds they form are strongest then."

Eomer gave the secretary an apologetic shrug. "I fear I must take care of this business before I can finish reports."

"But-" the secretary was left standing alone on the stone steps as Eomer and his men gathered the puppies and the rest of Noloran's things from the cart and headed into the Golden Hall.

* * *

"And he named that dog after ME!" Eowyn's fury was still evident, even after many days and countless miles. Faramir willed himself not to smile and stole a quick glance over at Elladan, noting that while the Elf appeared to be listening seriously and nodding his head slightly in agreement, the corners of his mouth were twitching slightly.

"You don't know for certain he meant you," said Faramir mildly, looking over at Eowyn with his best diplomatic face. "Perhaps he just likes the idea of calling the dog Princess. You know how he is."

"Oh, yes, I know how he is." Eowyn was fuming. Upon first discovering the name of Eomer's brindle puppy when she arrived at Meduseld, Eowyn had been incensed. Her brother's red-faced denial had not been very compelling, nor had the shame-faced grinning of his guards when the pup's name had been called. However after giving Eomer the silent treatment for the first two days of her and Faramir's week-long visit, she had allowed him to work his way back into her good graces and apparently had forgotten all about the dog until a chance remark by her husband earlier this morning had brought the memory back full force and she had been enraged all over again.

"Perhaps he meant it as a compliment," ventured Elrohir, lifting his eyebrows toward Faramir, who only closed his eyes and shook his head at the Elf, knowing this suggestion would be met with more anger and annoyance.

"A compliment!!" Eowyn's voice rose several notes higher. "What kind of a compliment would that be, to have a dog named for you?" She was nearly purple with anger and Faramir looked around them desperately for something to draw her thoughts away from Eomer and his dogs. He saw nothing, however, just the same rocks and trees that they had been seeing for days, ever since their departure from the empty beauty of Lorien. Eowyn's tirade faded from his ears as he thought back to the silent magnificence of the Golden Wood, nearly empty now that most of the Silvan Elves had gone west.

Although Faramir had initially resisted Aragorn's gift to him and Eowyn of an extended holiday, the king had urged him to go along with Elladan and Elrohir when they returned to the Last Homely House and enjoy the hospitality of his foster brothers and finally Faramir had accepted. The Elvish twins had arrived at Minas Tirith only a day after Eldarion's birth and had enjoyed a long visit before finally announcing their return to Rivendell. Since the departure of the group from the city several weeks ago, every mile brought some new sight, some fabled place that before had only been a name in a story, told by the fireside on quiet nights, now brought to life before Faramir's eyes. Even Eowyn had been having an enjoyable time until this morning's unfortunate comment had reminded her of Eomer's supposed treachery.

"…And you're not even listening!" Eowyn's voice cut into Faramir's thoughts.

"What?" He looked at her blankly and she frowned and groaned with disgust. Faramir smiled sheepishly. "I'm sorry, my love." He leaned over as he rode beside her and looked into her eyes. "I was just thinking how lovely you are and how much I am enjoying just being together." She tried to keep the frown fixed in place but he deliberately widened his eyes and smiled at her and soon the frown had transformed into a grudging smile.

"You and your smooth talk." She couldn't keep the pleased tone from her voice. She leaned towards him and gave him a quick kiss. "I'm enjoying it, too," she whispered. As reluctant as she had been at first to leave all the children behind at Minas Tirith with Nan and Arwen, once they had started off Eowyn had abandoned all worries and cares to enjoy herself fully. Aragorn had promised her her choice from among the Elvish horses at his foster father's house as a gift, but simply galloping across the Plains of Rohan with Faramir beside her had made the trip worthwhile to her. She smiled at him again, this time it was full and sincere. "I love you." He smiled back and kissed her again.

"My lord, Lady Eowyn." Elladan had stopped his horse and was gesturing before him. "Welcome to Rivendell."

Faramir stared in wonder and amazement. Below them lay the legendary house of Elrond, nestled in a deep valley beside the River Bruinen, the clear water flowing swiftly beneath an arched bridge of stone. The mist hanging among the trees and eaves of the house gave it a dreamlike quality and for a moment Faramir felt lost, suddenly immersed in an ancient story. This house was where Aragorn had grown up, where the Fellowship had set out on their journey; the mythical place Boromir had searched for and found. He looked over at Eowyn, reaching out to take her hand and she gave him a wide smile.

"It's beautiful," she said.

With a gentle nudge to the horses, they started down the path, each step taking them closer to Imladris, storied home of Elrond Half-Elven, the Last Homely House East of the Sea, a refuge, a place where hope had been nurtured, where time and memory met and stood still as the ages passed. The sound of a bell came floating up through the mist to the top of the gorge and although he had never been there before, Faramir felt as if he were being called home.

* * *

END

* * *

Once Again – A Gazillion thanks to Raksha for beta'ing and suggestions. If I could give you a Dalian Dragonhound, I certainly would!


End file.
